


Left (as in Gone)

by noussommeslessquelettes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Planet, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Author Goes Ham With Their Linguistics Degree Just A Little Bit, BAMF Lance (Voltron), Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Crushes, Don't copy to another site, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Keith & Shiro (Voltron) are Adoptive Siblings, Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Keith (Voltron), Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Keith/Lance (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Secret Crush, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-03-01 08:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 45,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18796561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noussommeslessquelettes/pseuds/noussommeslessquelettes
Summary: An unexpected collision en route to a Coalition conference leaves Keith and Lance stranded on an unknown alien planet, with no communication to the outside universe. As they work together on patching up the Red Lion, they’re left to ponder an unexplained series of disasters plaguing the locals, all while Keith tries to balance a secret mission entrusted to him by Kolivan and his resurfacing feelings for the Red Paladin.





	1. Tartle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tartle (Scottish) - To hesitate momentarily in recognising a person or thing.
> 
> After a crash-landing that leaves the Red Lion out of commission, Keith and Lance are left to wander the surface of an unknown planet in search of help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bro, We Are Fanfiction readers . Its Okay To Write Fanfic Around Me . Im Your Best Friend . I Love You . … Bro We Are Taking Half A Year Between Updates Now . No Dont Drop Off The Face Of AO3 Bro .. Bro …
> 
> Hi my name is Squelette and welcome to the show. If ur new to my fanfics I talk in the ANs more than a 14 year old on ffnet in 2006. Just be thankful I don’t intrude in the fic proper to have in-story arguments with the characters. If ur old to my fanfics u already know this (and love me despite it, dank u babey) and welcome back!!!
> 
> This story is my salt baby, and started after I believe season 4? She’s been germinating in my brain ever since, and after season 8 I decided to take a crack at canon divergence because why the hell not? Basically, the goals of this story from the outset were 1) to continue the narrative of Lance being Keith’s right-hand from season 3, and 2) to give the Keith more screentime to process finding his mother (rather than just fucking slapping a two-year timeskip on it and calling it done.)
> 
> It picked up a few additional goals on the way: to involve Lance in the resolution of the clone Shiro arc, to address Lance’s insecurities surrounding Keith’s departure to the Blades, to subtly introduce Keith’s Galra features so it’s not just a one-and-done occurrence in the clone battle, and to introduce explicit queer representation sooner in the story with Shiro and Adam, albeit with neither on screen (sorry guys I’m not a professional writer but dreamworks u could hire me and I’d chuck it in a flashback since u guys loooove that so much--)
> 
> Man, ud think after writing this fic I’d stop being so salty about it but hey whaddya do. Chapters will update on an approximately weekly basis. The fic is complete, and simply needs to be edited, so barring disasters--that I won’t name because I’m Superstitious--it will see completion.
> 
> I guess just a warning that the first scene has very mild description of an anything but mild injury. If you’re particularly sensitive to dislocated joints, I’ll bracket the parts where there is some description of it as (TW--gore) and (TW--gore ends). Stay safe babies! Also just because I’m emetophobic I wanna let any fellow emetophobes know that there is some discussion of nausea, but no one is ever sick in the story.
> 
> Also thanks 2 Nanners ([Druidicrune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/druidicrune/) on AO3, [banana-ghoul](https://banana-ghoul.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr) for being my beta, for being the best best friend in the world, and for sending me daily pictures of ur cats.
> 
> Hope y’all enjoy!

Ask Keith what the worst part of this mission was and a year ago he would’ve said, rather self-evidently, ‘it’s a solo mission with Lance McClain.’ Right now though, it was probably the fact that they were in free-fall due to a collision with… _something_ , in what by all prior accounts ought to be totally empty space.

He looked through the Red Lion’s windshield at the planet they currently hurtled towards—the planet that very well _wasn’t supposed to fucking be there in the first place_ —and tightened his grip on the back of the pilot’s chair.

“ _Pull up_ ,” he grit through his teeth. The planet ahead was getting bigger by the second, and if they didn’t escape its gravitational pull soon, they’d lose their only chance at evading an unplanned—and likely unpleasant—landing.

“Oh _great idea_ , Keith,” Lance snapped back, practically standing in the pilot’s chair, hands anchored on the controls as he leaned back on them with his whole weight, “why didn’t _I_ think of that?”

“We’re—”

“Oh wait,” he interrupted, voice cracking under duress, “I did!”

Keith let out an unrestrained growl. Of course, Lance’s presence didn’t seem to _help_ the situation. But in all fairness to him, this whole thing wasn’t Keith’s idea—wasn’t even Lance’s. It was in fact Kolivan’s decision, and Keith would gladly give him hell on both their behalfs if they actually managed to survive this.

“We have to get back control _now_ ,” he warned, “or we won’t be able to escape gravity.”

“I know that—I went to flight school _too_ ,” he tacked on that last part bitterly. “But Red’s not responding to me, she’s—”

The cabin shuddered, and the scene speeding past them slowed down one hell of a lot. Lance forewent continuing their argument in favour of releasing a string of curses, yanking up on the controls with a renewed sense of desperation.

“Call out to her.”

Lance dropped his mantra to shoot back a terse, “You think I _haven’t been_?”

“No, just—” He wished for all the world that he still had the link with Red, that he could understand what kind of silence this was, or even reach out and pull her back from it. But he gave that up—berated himself in the moment for his selfishness—because he trusted her to Lance, at that time. He needed to trust him now. “Just close your eyes. Focus on her.”

Lance let up on the controls, seeming to weigh Keith’s words. After a long moment he sighed, shoulders drooping as he dropped his head forward, taking Keith’s instructions in earnest. Keith’s fingers tapped an anxious beat against the headrest, as he stared resolutely into the back of Lance’s helmet, Red’s emergency lights swelling red against the metallic blue in a slow heartbeat. He waited for a reaction, holding his tongue as long as that patience would carry him.

This shouldn’t have been happening. _None_ of this was in the plan. Their current predicament certainly not, but even this whole mission itself—it was a non-mission, a goddamn ploy concocted by Kolivan to put Keith in precisely the wrong place, at precisely the wrong time. And as though the universe could find nothing better to do than fuck with Keith’s life specifically, they weren’t even going to make it to their destination without getting embedded in the surface of some random-ass planet that, again, shouldn’t even exist!

Worse still, Lance and Red had been brought in as collateral. And Red… she was hurt; Keith didn’t have to be her paladin anymore to figure that out. The uncharacteristic silence buzzing in the air and coming from her paladin before him gave that much away. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused, as if he could will the two of them—his former lion, and his former right hand—to connect.

The cabin resounded with a boom, and gravity suddenly turned on its head. He was thrown sideways, his feet stumbling beneath him and just barely managing to keep him upright until his back slammed against the cockpit wall, punching the air right from his lungs. In that instant, a klaxon began to shriek in his ears, and an unfamiliar nausea tugged at his stomach. He snapped his eyes open in time to watch the universe around them speed past the windows, in flashes of black and light rapid enough to make his head hurt—even disregarding the fact that he’d just been hurled against a solid metal wall.

“What happened?” Keith demanded, just as Lance shouted, “Did we hit something?!” Keith tried to push off the wall, but it was to no avail, as it stuck to him like a magnet. He looked to Lance, noticing then that he leaned heavily towards Keith in his seat, straining to reach for the panel before him.

An uncertain noise bubbled from the back of his throat. “Basic systems are all offline. We’ve lost artificial gravity, oxygen production… _quiznak_. Get your mask on.”

The cabin—thankfully—began to right itself, and Keith stumbled forward, activating his mask the moment he had the spare brainpower. If artificial gravity was offline, at least that explained the queasiness he was feeling, as well as their instability in Red. Even at the Garrison the ships had—albeit rudimentary—acceleration control, so actually sensing their flight (or in this case, fall) was an entirely novel experience, one that he didn’t really welcome in the moment.

He planted his feet firmly to the ground and flicked his eyes to the window once more. Red’s headlights bounced off bright grey clouds, clouds that currently retreated before them. He furrowed his brow. “Hey, why are we—”

(TW--gore)

The cabin around him tremored violently for a moment, and then filled with the godawful shriek of crumpling metal. The floor fell out from beneath him, and before he could even think to brace himself he hit the deck bodily, his shoulder catching the brunt of the blow with a sickening pop that he felt moreso than heard. It pulled an unrestrained curse from his lips, and he reached his opposite hand up to brace on his upper arm, the momentum sliding him further still against the polished metal.

(TW--gore ends)

The klaxon’s horrid song shut off abruptly, just as the red of the emergency lights disappeared, leaving them wholly in the dark and now in a sudden silence. Keith rolled onto his stomach as the ship settled, wincing when his weight briefly passed over his injured shoulder.

He took a breath. Two. Then the first wave of pain overtook him, nauseating in its intensity. His fingernails dug into his arm, eyes squeezing shut as he begged himself not to be sick in his mask, a task complicated by his growing awareness of just how unnatural the angle his arm currently settled in was.

A prolonged groan rang off the walls, then Lance was saying something. Keith was having trouble hearing it, though—Lance sounded so far away, and the pounding in his skull was way too loud.

“…eith?” Footfalls clanged against the floor, and Keith winced when it resonated in his ear, growing louder without mercy. A light shone dimly against his shut eyelids, and he squeezed them tighter reflexively. “Quiznak, are you okay?”

The best Keith could manage was a groan in response. Lance set a ginger hand on Keith’s arm, pushing him back. “Stop,” he choked out. As bad as it hurt right then, Keith didn’t want to find out how much worse it could get—better the enemy you knew and all that.

He relinquished immediately. “I… what’s hurt?” Keith must’ve looked pretty bad off, if _Lance_ of everyone was being this cautious.

“Shoulder. I think—” The pain swelled again, and he failed to bite down a whine. “I think it’s out.”

There was a silent beat before Lance spoke up again, tone now decisive. “You’re going to have to let me see.”

Keith’s heart rate skyrocketed, his head swimming. “No. No no no, don’t—”

“It’s okay, it’s going to be okay. We’ll do it slow. Can you hold it?”

He swallowed thickly, the fingers of his other hand drumming against his arm and confirming their placement. “I am.”

Lance hummed his assent, tucking an arm under Keith’s stomach. “On three. One… two…”

Keith hissed as the pressure lifted off the wound, the pain practically doubling. The bone shifted, settling farther out, and he gripped on harder, silently begging it to stay put until Lance set him down to sit.

“All good?” Lance sounded a touch winded as he let go, shuffling around Keith to face him head-on. Keith forced his eyes open, which only served to make him feel worse. If Lance could shut his helmet lights that’d be _great_ , because they were so goddamn bright they were making Keith dizzy.

“No,” he answered honestly.

Lance huffed, his tone losing some of its gentle cadence. “Work with me, alright? You’re right about it being dislocated.”

“Bad?”

“Well… not sure how you can do it any other way.”

(TW--gore)

He levelled a glare at Lance—despite knowing the mask covered it all—then dared to take a look for himself. Almost immediately, he wished he hadn’t; not much could quite prepare him for seeing his suit pulled taught over the head of his humerus, which jutted forward into what he was ninety percent sure was meant to be muscle. Reflexively he tensed, pain shot through him once more, and he cried out.

“Jesus—well don’t _look at it_ !” Lance squawked—and what was _he_ so uptight about, Keith was the one with a goddamn bone sticking out of his body!

“You have to put it back in.”

“Wh—” Lance sat back an inch, eyes widening, “No way in _hell_ am I doing that!”

“Well _I_ can’t do it, now can I?”

“But it’s…” He looked practically green, and Keith imagined the end of that sentence was meant to be ‘gross.’

“Try being _attached_ to it.” The muscles cramped and he hissed through his teeth, jabbing his heel into the floor to try and distract from it.

“Okay okay ohh—” He put a steadying hand on Keith’s good arm, head flicking along with his eyes as he seemed to search for something. “Let me just—uh, how should I..?” He rested the other on the jutting bone, eyes finally settling on Keith’s. “Want me to count to three?”

“Just _do_ it,” he barked.

“Three!” He pushed down, and every nerve in Keith’s body set ablaze. The pressure lifted off, however, the moment it ripped a cry from his throat, and Lance’s voice cut through the throb in his ears. “I can’t—”

“God— _suck it up_ Lance,” he interrupted, in far too much distress to entertain Lance’s squeamishness.

“No, I mean I _can’t_. It’s stuck. Nothing’s moving,” he started to massage his thumb into the muscle around the wound, bringing his other hand up to help, “you’re too stiff.”

“I wonder wh— _ugh_.” He slapped a hand to his mouth—stopped on its way by his mask—as a dangerously strong pang of nausea washed over him.

“Take off your mask if you’re going to hurl.”

“I’m not.” He clenched his jaw until the sensation subsided, then willed it to relax alongside the rest of his body. He took a steadying breath, then another. He shut his eyes. “Okay, again.”

Lance exhaled a deep breath—or maybe it was a resigned sigh—then repositioned both hands atop the wound, giving a far more solid push this time. Keith bit his tongue to keep quiet, a task complicated by the fact that Lance appeared to take his in earnest now, giving a couple hard shoves that emptied Keith’s mind of anything that wasn’t excruciating pain. Well, _nearly_ anything; it seemed the only other thing he knew for certain was that the joint absolutely refused to budge.

(TW--gore ends)

It felt like an eternity before Keith decided he couldn’t take it anymore. “Stop stop _stop_ —” Lance yielded, and the burn slowly eased. His wits flowed in like molasses, but he soon registered that Lance had a hand on his back; he also registered that his forehead was resting against Lance’s chestplate. Then an ache ripped through him, and he couldn’t find the energy to be embarrassed about it all.

“Keith, this isn’t going to work.” His stomach turned as that reality set in. “And Red’s toast right now.”

He furrowed his brow—what was Lance _talking about?_ “What happened to Red?”

“I—” He stopped short, pausing for a moment. “We _crashed_ , Keith. You don’t remember?”

“We did,” he realised after giving it a think. At least that explained why it felt like he’d just been hit by a truck.

“Fuck, we need to get you some help.” Lance pulled away, and Keith reluctantly lifted his head. Lance had turned to look over his shoulder, seeming to regard the main hatch. “Think you can walk?”

* * *

 

 _“You’re my_ mom _?” It was all Keith could do to keep his jaw off the floor, staring positively wide-eyed and gobstopped at the Blade standing across the cockpit from him. He rapidly searched her features for his own: a sharp jawline, an earnest furrow to her brow, and those eyes… “How did you get to Earth?” The questions in his mind spilled immediately out his mouth. “How-how did you meet my dad? How are you sure?”_

_“I’m sure,” she finally said, breaking her silence and Keith’s uncharacteristic rant. “This isn’t how I wanted to meet you again, and this isn’t how I wanted to tell you, but it’s the truth.”_

_She turned away from him, moving forwards in the cockpit. He willed his numb legs to move, following her a step behind. “So—”_

_“We can talk about this later,” she cut him off, not even seeming to have heard. She stopped once she reached the dash, pulling a holographic screen up in front of her eyes._

_“Later?” Keith echoed, his brow furrowing._ Is eighteen years not late enough? _“You drop a bomb like this and tell me you’ll explain_ later _?”_

_“There will be plenty of time on our mission to discuss this, but right now we need to focus on—” She stopped short, finger halted on the screen. “Kolivan called,” she seemed to speak to herself, then with a deft swipe she hailed the main base. Keith made it to her side, examining her in profile. Her brow knit together in confusion, but her gaze stayed fixed, unwavering even as Kolivan’s image overtook the universe speeding past ahead._

_“Krolia,” he acknowledged, and she responded with a curt nod. He then turned to Keith. “I trust the extraction was a success?”_

_“Uh…” Keith’s brain stalled—how_ had _the extraction gone? He struggled to recall, even though it’d been less than ten minutes ago._

_“Absolutely,” Krolia answered for him, “we made it out with no enemy ships in pursuit, and we’re on course for our next destination.”_

_“There’s been a change of plans.” Her expression finally changed, eyebrows shooting up as she stood straighter. “Keith, you’re to come back to the base; Krolia will be taking this mission by herself.”_

_Keith’s heart sank, his logic admonishing him for ever getting his hopes up—as if that had_ ever _worked out for him before. Krolia looked to him then, hardened eyes finally relenting into something softer—apology? Disappointment? Pity?_

_He didn’t care, he decided. He brushed past her towards the pilot’s chair, taking the helm._

_“I’m on my way.”_

* * *

Vines and roots tangled underfoot as the two of them shuffled through a murky alien forest, the path ahead lit only by Lance’s helmet lights. They’d left the dormant Red Lion behind in the barest hope that this planet would be (A) inhabited, by (B) humanoids, who were (C) nearby, and (D) not hostile. And Keith might not have paid a lot of attention during his academic lectures at the Garrison, but this past year spent in space taught him that their chances of hitting all four of those bullet points on a crash landing were between slim and none. Besides, what reason did he have to believe his string of bad luck would end anytime soon?

Needless to say, Keith was not the poster boy for high hopes today.

Though he had to admit, things could be worse. The pain in his shoulder levelled out to a constant excruciating throb, which he’d decided was far better than the unpredictable waves from before his initial shock had dissipated. His head also pounded, and combined with the shoulder he figured it was enough to distract him from noticing anything else he might’ve broken.

Keith pasted himself to Lance’s side, relying heavily on him to remain upright and on course as the ground seemed to vacillate beneath his feet, his eyes losing their fight to stay open far more often than he’d like to admit. Lance took charge as if second-nature to him, his arm a steel band around Keith’s waist as his bayard—currently activated in the form of a sleek pistol—led them both through the brush.

Keith had elected to keep his mask on despite the looming threat of nausea, because he didn’t want to deal with Lance catching a grimace before he could school it away. Lance, on the other hand, had lifted his until only the visor sat before his face. With his head resting on Lance’s shoulder, and the rest of the world spinning around them, he let his gaze travel along the planes of Lance’s face, tracing lips that curved softly despite being pulled into a terse frown, noting how his head twitched in tandem with his eyes and bayard as they inched through the darkness.

Lance was uncharacteristically silent, had been for as far back as Keith’s memory bothered to serve him. His eyes were laser focused and his every nerve seemed to be pulled as taught as a bowstring, his grip on Keith strong and unwavering.

Among many other things—like figuring out which directions were up and down—Keith’s mind struggled to reconcile this image of Lance with the one he’d known on Earth. Of course they’d _all_ changed since entering this war, but this Lance was so… mature. He was no-nonsense, and hadn’t hesitated to take charge the moment it was demanded of him. And despite his own nature, Keith found in his current state that he was perfectly content to let Lance take the reins on this. His eyes traced Lance’s jawline—which _definitely_ hadn’t been _that_ sharp before Keith had left to the Blade of Marmora—and found a tiny, pink scar there, a raised nick drawn from his chin to less than an inch below the corner of his lip.

There was a rustling somewhere nearby, and Lance froze. An instant later he’d pulled Keith against his chest and whirled them around, firing his bayard.

“That was a warning shot,” Lance called out, his tone deadly serious. “You’d better come out and show yourself, because I don’t miss twice.” And was Keith ever thankful he was on this side of the barrel—he knew from experience that when Lance said that, it’s wasn’t a mere boast. Another rustle sounded, and Lance’s stance shifted, heartbeat jackrabbiting against Keith’s collarbone.

“Don’t hurt me,” came the feeble response, a low voice with a clear tremble.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he admitted, tone no less steely for it. He repeated, “Come out and show yourself.”

Another rustle sounded, along with the shuffle of feet on dry dirt. Lance’s shoulders drooped with a shaky sigh, his bayard arm lowering to his side. With that, his grip loosened on Keith, granting him just enough liberty to look over his shoulder and gauge the new arrival.

Four limbs held themselves aloft in surrender, the humanoid alien attached to them standing about a foot taller than Keith, even when bowed in fear. What remained of their physique was swallowed up in a loose tunic, coloured so as to camouflage them in the surroundings. Two eyes were offset where many alien races—humans included—would usually find them, shut tightly, however a third eye sat wide open on their forehead, flicking nervously between Keith and Lance.

“Who _are_ you?” The alien asked, awestruck.

Lance blew a small chuckle. “Ever heard of Voltron?”

Their eye gave a slow blink. “Vol… tron?”

Lance’s confident tone faltered. “You know, legendary defenders? Symbol of hope? Er… big, robot space cats?”

“You two are _star-travelers_ ,” they breathed, standing up a bit straighter.

“Sure, yeah.” He failed to keep the slight offense from his tone. “I mean, were a bit _more_ than that, but—” Blood rushed to Keith’s head, and Lance’s chestplate suddenly collided with the front of his mask. He stifled a groan, but it seemed to be enough to snap Lance’s train of thought back on track. “My friend’s really hurt; I need you to take us to a hospital _now_ .” A few seconds of silence followed, and he huffed. “Hospital, healer, doctor— _whatever_ you want to call it, just show us where to go!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ppl who know me on tumblr will probably go “hey Squelette is just using the injury she got by being a dumbass and projecting it on Keith!” and to that I will say WRONG! I’m not forcing Keith to suffer a dislocated joint because I had to too, I’m doing it bc of the time my dad dislocated his shoulder and he made me touch the hole it left in his muscle. Super gross 0/10 would not stick my fingie in it again.
> 
> Also because pining Keith and protective Lance, also also because people just forget physics a lot of the time and it pisses me off? Like the lions are magical and probably can control the inertia in a frame of reference but like if u don’t have magic den fuck right off?? Astronauts’ bodies go through HELL in travel like without G-suits and heavy training human bodies experience G-LOC? Considering the BoM suit probably is anti-gravity takes care of that, but like it doesn’t mean ur not gonna be tossed around like a salad if ur in a NIFoR and not strapped in. Yes I’m being nitpicky but this is my fucking fanfic I’m allowed to be nitpicky!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> This isn’t a callout for other fic writers btw. This is mainly a callout for Hollywood YEAH I SEE U MOTHERFUCKERS I’M COMING FOR U AND UR SHITTY ASS PHYSICS WITH A WIFFLE BALL BAT AND I AM NOT HOLDING BACK
> 
> (yes I also take liberties in my physics, namely that I don't make my characters age slower despite travelling near light speed beCAUSE IT MAKES ME SAD TO THINK ABOUT THAT. Also there's a difference btwn doing it when ur paid millions of dollars and can research it and when u have two whole dollars in ur bank account because therapy gas and tuition are exponsive)
> 
> I’m currently working on a couple months’ backlog of comments, so I do apologise if you comment on this chapter and I take a little while to answer, but I promise I will. I always reply to comments <3 y’all just make me so happy taking the time outta ur day to drop a note--long notes, short ones, even just keysmashes--and it make a me cry ;u; so I apologise if it takes a little bit but thank you so much in the interim!
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please kudo, comment, rec, and/or [reblog on Tumblr!](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/188620257121/left-as-in-gone-chapter-1/) Subscribe to the story if you want to follow it as it updates as well (if u wanna see that Good Good AO3 email every time my goblin ass gets my act together)
> 
> If u liked the chapter but want something completed to read, you can check out my already completed klance fics right here!
> 
>  
> 
> [Stick It (Gymnastics AU)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10821705/)  
> [Throwback Playlist (High School/College AU)](https://archiveofourown.org/series/796614/)  
> [Brother: How We Found Takashi (Conspiracy Documentary AU)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14597865/)  
> [Convenience (Hockey AU)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15858396/)
> 
>  
> 
> See you again next week!
> 
> **Chapter preview:**
> 
> “Where’s Lance?” Keith was starting to wonder whether this was a friendly observation or a security detail, and his fingers itched for his blade.
> 
> She gave a knowing nod. “He’s alright; you don’t have to worry about him.”
> 
> “I’m not _worried_ ,” he snapped. “Where is he?”


	2. Dépaysment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dépaysment (French) - The disorientation that comes from being away from one’s homeland.
> 
> Keith learns the aftermath of their crash, though a dislocated shoulder might be the least of his concerns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lotta y’all felt bad for Keith bc I hurt him but y’all it’s a metaphor… Beefy Keefy’s gonna be okie dokie, we live with the scars of our past but they do not define us. Which, honestly, I think is a better lesson to learn than “people DIE in war!! But specifically minority ppl who we included for brownie points die lol” then again this /is/ my fanfic so I have a biased view. Anyhow.
> 
> Welcome back! I’m so glad to see u here, why don’t you stay a spell? Pull up a chair, grab some cookies I baked fresh just for you! They’re from a package but how are u gonna know the difference whAT ARE YOU A COP???
> 
> Thank u so much to everyone who commented and reblogged and read and shared and everything! I’m so thankful for u guys, y’all keep me motivated to continue <3
> 
> U heard of thirsty Keith, get ready for… oh no wait, it’s just more thirsty Keith. Well, u know what ur here for if u read the first chapter lol. If u didn’t read the first chapter yet, I don’t rly know what game ur playin but u can just scroll up and press the “previous chapter” button. If this is intentional I want you to know I’m currently sweating in my socks at the power you possess, but proceed.
> 
> Oh also with regards to concussions (kudos to those of u who picked up on that btw!) I’m calling on alien-medicine-based suspension of disbelief rules in this chapter. I have reasoning that I haven’t given in the fic because it doesn’t really matter and I’m not gonna bore ppl with my justification but yeah, Keith and Lance’s recoveries aren’t gonna match up w standard prognoses because Fanfic Rules Ahead.

_ Krolia swung Keith by the base and dropped him off, something that was so nearly pedestrian and yet so far from it that Keith almost had to laugh—not that he was much in the mood for humour right about now. He watched his mother speed away in the cruiser faster than he could make his exit from the landing bay, fucking off to space yet again. Leaving him behind—alone—yet again. _

_ But he refused to feel upset over it. He locked those emotions away to deal with at a later date, because there were more pressing matters for him to attend to than wallowing in self-pity over his deadbeat alien mom. He spun on his heel and found Kolivan by the airlock, hands folded behind his back and expression impassive as ever. _

_ “Couldn’t wait to see me again?” He crossed his arms and walked up to Kolivan, quirking an eyebrow. _

_ “This issue was too important to wait.” He turned towards the airlock once Keith reached his side, leading them both through the open portal. _

_ The reply, so often as they did with Kolivan, did little to sate Keith’s curiosity. “Did you break through Thace’s locked files?” _

_ Kolivan shook his head, his lips pursing sourly. “We’ve gotten a name: Operation Kuron. That is the extent of our progress thus far.” _

_ He opened his mouth to make a suggestion, but thought better of it in the moment. He’d told Kolivan before about Pidge’s expertise with this sort of thing, but he had none of it, very adamant about not letting Voltron—or anyone else, for that matter—interfere with the affairs of the Blade of Marmora. Even  _ Keith _ found Kolivan’s level of secrecy to be a bit excessive, but if the Garrison taught him one thing, it’s that arguing with your superior officers got you no closer to convincing them. _

_ “It’s Voltron,” Kolivan finally elaborated. _

* * *

Keith’s mind clung to the vestiges of his dream, though the details trickled away with every passing moment as his eyes eased half-open against the sunlight filtering in from a nearby window. In less than thirty seconds, he was left with only a cottony feeling between his ears and a confusion over how he’d ended himself up here, in the tiny bed of an unfamiliar, blank-walled room.

“You’re awake.”

And just like that, all remnants of his lethargy disappeared. He sat bolt upright and reached for his blade, only for his hand to land on the back of his shirt. Weapon missing, he turned his head to size up his opponent, weighing his odds in combat with his bare hands—er,  _ hand _ , according to the strap binding his arm taught against his stomach and the positively  _ wicked _ ache therein.

Judging by their anatomy, they belonged to an alien civilisation Keith had yet to encounter. Tall but lanky, they looked easy to overpower. Keith knew appearances could be deceptive, however. They smiled benevolently back at him—he hoped, at least, that smiling meant the same to these aliens as it did to humans. The memory of an early Voltron mission sprung to mind, the one where Lance had nearly caused a diplomatic crisis by smiling too aggressively while flirting with a civilisation’s crown princess. Ever since then, Allura urged the team to follow their hosts’ lead when it came to social etiquette.

“Don’t get up, it’s alright.” They held a hand out, standing half-up from their seat. When Keith relaxed, they sat back in the chair. “Do you remember me? My name is Kavo, I’m the girl from last night.”

_ Girl, good to know _ . Alien gender wasn’t an easy thing to guess. He didn’t remember her, unfortunately, but her friendly tone set him minorly at ease. The memory of how exactly he’d ended up in that bed started to trickle back—a collision, Red going offline, Lance’s panic, and… a glance downwards at the arm strapped taught across his midsection confirmed at least one event from when that summary dropped off.

“How are you feeling?” She sat in a chair on the far wall, about six feet from Keith’s bed, and he was as thankful as one could be in this situation that she kept her distance.

His bound shoulder throbbed vaguely, and he felt…  _ heavy _ , but other than that… “Fine. How long have I been out?”

She hummed thoughtfully. “About six cycles?”

Keith groaned. And to think he’d  _ just _ gotten used to Altean time measurements! All he could hope was that cycles weren’t this civilisation’s equivalent to days—that was something he could ask Lance later.

_ Hang on… _ “Where’s Lance?” He was starting to wonder whether this was a friendly observation or a security detail, and once again his fingers itched for his blade. He’d probably be less than useless in a fight right about now with a bum shoulder, but a weapon might buy him some valuable time to think up a plan.

But she gave a knowing nod, posture still relaxed. “He’s alright; you don’t have to worry about him.”

“I’m not  _ worried _ ,” he snapped. “Where is he?”

“He’s at my house, resting. He said he’d return as soon as he woke, though. He was worried about you too.”

“I told you, I’m not—” he huffed, letting it drop. He pressed his free hand to his cheek, wondering how it had gotten so warm in such a short time—an affliction he often suffered at the mention of Lance. His hopes that the months they’d spent apart would temper the reaction, obviously, were for naught.

She sat forward, her eyes lighting up. “You two are star-travellers, right?” Keith hummed non-comitally, scanning the room as she spoke. On the wall opposite her was the window through which the sunlight filtered in, a warm breeze wafting through the open panel. He could probably fit through it, if pressed, though he wondered at the landing that would greet him if he tried. “Are you from Urdak?”

“Uh… no?” He guessed.

She furrowed her brow. “So where  _ are _ you from?”

“That’s a complicated question.”  _ One I’m still trying to answer, myself _ . He kicked away the blanket, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, and now Kavo stood, a bit more urgently.

“Wait, don’t stand up!” She crossed the room in a pair of quick strides, putting four deceptively strong hands on Keith.

Keith’s pulse skyrocketed, instincts kicking in and readying him to make a quick escape. Suddenly, he felt more optimistic about his odds with the window. “Why not?”

“We’re not sure what the effects of our medicines can be on your people—last night with Lance—”

“I’m not  _ Lance _ ,” Keith insisted, pushing off her grip on his good arm, “I feel fine enough to—”

A raucous rumble from behind Kavo cut Keith off, followed by a familiar voice calling, “Couldn’t wait for me to make it back, huh?”

Kavo turned, freeing Keith’s line of sight to the door, opening to reveal Lance McClain, now in plainclothes, a hand on his hip and smirk as cocky as ever.

“Milady,” he acknowledged Kavo sweetly, sliding the door closed behind him as he walked up towards the bed.

She giggled, bowing her head in return. Keith rolled his eyes, trying not to gag and nearly managing. Some things never change, be it Lance’s unfortunate attempts at flirting with girls, or the inevitable stomachaches they gave Keith. “It’s excellent to see you’re in high spirits.”

“Good rest and a great hostess will do that.” He turned to Keith then, and clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Already trying to run off? At least wait until you’re in one piece, Keith.”

“Leave it to Lance to abandon you in an alien hospital for an extra five minutes of sleep,” he deadpanned.

“I made it here as quick as I could! It might surprise you to know, but being the first alien to visit this planet makes you a pretty popular guy. Everyone’s been wanting a piece of me,” he laughed, winking at Kavo, “not that that’s anything new. I’ve already made the necessary introductions with all the head honchos, all while  _ you’ve _ been asleep, so you’re welcome for that.”

“So we crashed?” He deduced.

Lance nodded. “How much do you remember?”

“Less than that.”

“Fair enough—you were acting kind of loopy the whole time after. Last night’s pretty fuzzy for me too, but long story short: Red hit something, we landed on this planet, ‘n I dragged you around until Kavo found us. It was all pretty heroic of me, really. You missed out.” He puffed out his chest, smug and self-satisfied.

“Where’s Red?”

He shrugged, nonchalant. “Where we landed.”

“Have you seen her?”

“Not yet; haven’t had the time.”

Keith furrowed his brow.  _ He just left her _ ? “What about our mission, Lance? We can’t make it out without—”

“We can’t  _ make it out _ ,” Lance interrupted, holding a finger up, “until you get better.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“That’s what  _ he _ said,” Kavo butt in, gesturing to Lance, “before he collapsed from the hard flower.”

“Wh-I—” Lance sputtered. “I didn’t  _ collapse _ . I just made the very quick decision to sit down and let that flower stuff take effect.”

“And pass out.”

Lance sighed. “And that’s why you—” he turned back to Keith “—need to stay under observation, ‘cause you got a lot more of that crap than I did. Besides, they don’t want to release you until they’ve treated your shoulder.”

“I’m not staying here that long; our mission can’t wait for that.”

Lance’s brow furrowed in a rare earnesty. “It’ll have to. The Coalition’s just going to have to sit on it ‘til we’re all sorted out. We’re in no rush to get going—we don’t even know where this planet  _ is _ , or why it hasn’t shown on any maps.”

“We can’t just sit on our asses until shit falls back into place.”

“We’re  _ not _ sitting on our asses—”

“Then why haven’t you gotten Red?”

“Because she’s  _ gone _ , Keith!” He snapped, stunning Keith into silence. He folded his arms, glaring sidelong at the wall. “I can’t hear her, can’t  _ feel _ her at all. She’s not going to fly anytime soon. All we can do is wait, and hope she comes back.” He huffed, then spun on his heel. “I’ll go see if the doctors want to check on you.” With that, he slipped through the door, shutting it with a bit more force than necessary.

Keith stared almost dumbfounded at the space Lance had only just occupied, his sluggish mind dragging itself up to speed. He had no idea things were that bad with Red—he figured Lance was just being lazy as usual. He knew how difficult losing that bond with your lion was, how it felt like the absence of something that you’d always had, something that only made its presence known in its absence. If he’d known—

“Are your people,” Kavo cut in on his thoughts, “usually so… loud?”

Keith sighed, rubbing a hand into his forehead. “No, that’s just the two of us.” It figured that the first thing he’d do upon seeing Lance was bungle the whole interaction by pushing all the wrong buttons. Keith seemed to have a knack for, if nothing else, pissing his crush off.

“Is your head hurting again?”

He shook it, dropping his hand in his lap. “No, my head’s fine.”

She pursed her lips, no more convinced. “If it’s still hurting I must know.”

“It’s not,” he assured, “I’m just a dumbass.”

The door was ripped open anew, rattling against the frame under the force of being slammed against its moorings, and Lance rushed back in. “So good news for Keith,” his voice was shrill, betraying the tension he tried to conceal beneath a cheery tone. He held the door open as two aliens carted in a third in their arms, clearly unconscious, “they decided to let you out early. Kavo, help him up so he doesn’t eat shit.”

Her brow furrowed. “Eat..?”

“Ugh— _ fall _ !” He dropped the jovial pretense, giving her a ‘hurry up’ gesture. “Now can we please—?”

And to Keith’s credit, he barely clung to Kavo as she hoisted him to his feet, vision blacking out for a mere second before it came back to the corridor—as well as more aliens still—rushing past him.

* * *

“… But  _ this _ guy,” Lance murmured to Keith though no one else was around to hear them, sat together at a short, circular table in the front room of Kavo’s home, “she’s like, the  _ big _ big kahuna. They call her the grand sul… er… well, the grand  _ something _ . Apparently Antyan communities are all ruled by these people, instead of having like a central government or king or whatever.”

“Antyan..?”

“Antya,” Lance answered immediately, his leg starting a bounce that jostled the table alongside, “that’s what they call the planet we’re on.”

As shitty as it sounded to say, Keith was thankful for the timing of whatever the fuck had forced them out of the hospital, because it’d made Lance drop any anger he was harbouring after their fight. Instead, he leaned into the few inches of space set between their two chairs as they waited for a delegation to meet more formally with them, trying to catch Keith up on everything he’d missed while knocked out on alien drugs.

“Also, apparently hosting is like, the  _ biggest _ honour for these people, so the grand lady is going to offer to move us to her palace—’s what Kavo told me. We’re allowed to refuse, and we’re going to—this place is a lot more central than the grand lady’s digs, and a lot closer to Red.” Keith thought he saw Lance wince at her name, but the pained look was gone faster than he could blink.

“Star-travellers,” a soothing baritone orated, and Lance immediately sprung to his feet. 

Through the open archway walked in an…  _ Antyan _ , Keith recalled, dressed in a tight-fitting and clean-cut suit, reminding Keith vaguely of how twentieth century cartoons envisioned the people of the future would dress, only less vacuum-packed and coloured in deep reds instead of chrome. Her hair was in a tight, tall bun, which pulled taught the features of her face, much as her smile did.

Lance put a hand to his chest, tilting his chin up at her. She returned the gesture, then turned to Keith to do the same.

“Please do not strain yourself,” she responded immediately with a look of worry when Keith moved to stand.

He tried not to roll his eyes at her, nor let his labour show as he got to his feet, mimicking the salute with his good hand. “I’ve survived worse, don’t worry.”

She took a stool opposite them, and Keith took it as his cue to lower himself back down. In his peripheral vision Lance watched him keenly, waiting with a hand held out—until Keith swatted it away—before taking his own seat again. “I understand our medicines have been helping you recover. How have you found their care to be?”

“She means doctors,” Lance explained, then tapped a finger to his ear. “I think our translators are messed.”

She didn’t seem to take offense to Lance’s intrusion, looking no less expectantly to Keith. “Right. I, um. Unfortunately, I was asleep for most of the time I spent there.”

She frowned. “And I do apologise most sincerely that your stay had to be cut short.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. But about that, what happened?”

“We’re not quite sure yet.” Her peaceable smile faltered. “A clan on the outskirts of the community suddenly appeared in centre-town exhibiting symptoms of some strange, fast-acting disease. This is not an uncommon occurrence—our community seems to have been struck with some sort of terrible luck. Every turn or so, there’s some new disaster hitting us. Earth tremors, infestation, fire raining from the sky…”

“There’s no common factor?” Lance asked.

“Only that it spreads quickly, and hits us hard.” She shook her head, smiling once more. “But never you mind that—what’s important right now is that you two are here. I will personally see to it that my palace doctors tend to your—”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary!” Lance interrupted, smiling meekly as—this time—she  _ did _ seem the slightest bit agitated by the interjection. “We’re more than capable of taking care of ourselves, now. Honestly, in all the planets I’ve visited, I’ve never once encountered an overnight cure for a concussion. It’s incredible, the kind of medicine you guys have.”

She bowed her head. “Why, thank you. It’s not every day that you hear such a compliment! But still, it would be my honour to host the two of you, to learn everything you know about our universe.”

“Actually,” Keith spoke up, “if it’s alright with you, we’d prefer to stay with Kavo. Here, we’re closer to our ship.” She gave Keith a puzzled look. “Uh, our cruiser?”

“Plane?” Lance tried. “Vehicle?”

“Ah.” It finally clicked. “Well, alright then. When were you two planning on leaving?”

They exchanged a wary look. “Not anytime soon,” Lance replied. His leg stopped shaking, eyes dropping to the tabletop briefly before he caught himself and picked up his gaze. “It was a bad crash, and our ship’s not looking so hot.”

And again, the guilt surrounding their earlier spat resurfaced. “I’m not ready to fly yet either,” Keith offered. It was a lie, but he hoped it’d take the heat off Lance a little bit, even if it was self-inflicted.

She nodded. “If there’s anything I can do to help, anyone I can call upon, you let me know and it will already be done.”

Lance smiled. “Thank you.”

“I will let you retire for the evening, then. I trust this will not be our last meeting, star-travellers?”

She stood, and Lance sat taller in response. “It won’t. Safe travels your, uh… grandness,” he finished lamely.

“Thank you, goodbye.” She nodded at the both of them, then walked out the door.

Once the grand-whatever was out of sight, Lance sighed, slouching in his chair. He rubbed his stomach. “Man, I hope these Antyans have dinner too, I’m freakin’ starving.”

* * *

Antyans did, in fact, have dinner. And then some.

Kavo made it difficult to refuse, particularly when Keith made the mistake of emptying his first dish and she responded with a new, larger one absolutely stacked with a brand new assortment of savoury foods. Most of what they’d been served was mashed or mush in nature, and filling enough to make Keith forget the near day-long fast he’d experienced—he didn’t know how he could ever feel hungry again after that meal.

Lance had learned from Keith’s mistake—and perhaps from earlier experience—expertly eating around so his plate never emptied, and even stealing scraps from Keith’s second serving when Kavo stepped out for more fresh water. He was a genius, Keith realised, and a rat bastard for not clueing him in earlier.

After clearing away the food (and insisting that they have what Keith could only assume would’ve been some kind of dessert had they obliged,) Kavo led them to where they’d be sleeping that night. They walked in silence past the front rooms, down a dark corridor, then when they got to a doorway on the right, she silently motioned two hands in demonstration.

“Thanks,” Lance said, overtaking her and stepping in the threshold before pausing, glancing back over his shoulder. “Is Keith going to be nearby?”

“Oh.” She blinked owlishly at him with three eyes. “I had assumed you two were sharing.”

Lance gave an awkward chuckle. “Well, humans don’t usually sleep together unless they’re…” Her expression remained unchanged, and Lance’s eyes bugged out. He glanced for a split-second at Keith, who clued in at that precise moment, butterflies swelling in his chest. “ _ Oh _ , you think—”

“We’re not—” They both started in tandem, exchanging another mortified look as they each cut themselves off—was Lance  _ blushing _ ? Keith definitely was, his cheeks positively burning.

She held up four hands. “I’m sorry—this is embarrassing, I had assumed—”

“It’s fine!” Lance squawked, Keith minorly thankful that she didn’t get to explain just what she  _ had _ assumed. “But nope, we are not… anything. It’s totally platonic. Just… bros.”

Keith tried not to cringe at that.  _ Drive it home a little harder, why don’t you, Lance? _

She frowned. “I don’t have an extra room.”

“You can’t put Keith up on your couch?” Keith shot Lance a glare, who caught it and then subsequently—pointedly—refused eye contact.

“I don’t think I have a chair that’s big enough.”

“This is ridiculous,” Keith declared, taking care to soften his expression a bit before turning it on Kavo, his tone unfortunately suffering from some residual tension in his jaw. “We’re fine to share a room, Kavo. It won’t be any problem.” He stalked towards the doorway, making sure to shove Lance into its frame with his good shoulder on the way in.

“Ow?” Lance snapped back at him, but when Keith paid him no mind he turned his attention back to Kavo, exchanging a few hushed words at the door.

Keith regarded the room around him—about a room-and-a-half of what he’d had on the castle ship, and far more than the bunk he’d been given as a Blade. On the wall to his left was another doorway, which Keith summated must’ve been the bathroom, or some equivalent. And to his right, centred on the wall, was a fairly sizeable bed, definitely big enough for him and Lance to share.

He tried not to overthink that little quandary. Sharing a room meant sharing a  _ bed _ . He glanced back at Lance, still leaning against the doorway and engaged in idle conversation with Kavo, one leg bent at the knee as he curled a toe on the ground, rolling his ankle in circles idly around the point, and Keith’s heart started to flutter in his chest.

_ Don’t make this weird, Keith _ . He turned his attention away from the door, finding a darkened mass on the floor next to the bed, and resting atop that mass…

“My blade,” he said, using the wall to lower himself to a kneel next to the bed, picking it up off what he now recognised to be his suit. He examined it in the low light, supplemented by the calming purple glow on the hilt, and found it still to be spotless—not a mark on it.

_ My blade. Krolia’s blade _ … He tightened his grip on the handle. He realised that this, too, was something that you only noticed in its absence—it felt  _ right _ to have in his hands again.

“What, did you think we stole it off you?” Lance scoffed, tone back to good-natured. Keith looked back over his shoulder—Lance now leaned against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, the door behind him shut. Keith didn’t answer, merely sheathed it back in his belt, pushing to stand again. “That’s  _ my _ side of the bed, by the way. You can sleep over there.” He pointed to the far side, the one by the window.

Keith shrugged, rounding the bed before kicking off his boots. “Fine by me.”  _ That worked out better _ , he decided after giving it a moment’s thought. On the far side, he could sleep on his good shoulder and not have to face Lance.

“The other door’s for the bathroom,” Lance continued. “Antyans don’t have teeth like us, but apparently they’ve got things that are kind of like toothbrushes—Kavo said she’ll get us some tomorrow. Still, if you need it, it’s there.”

Keith undid his belt—one-handed, no less—then started to shimmy out of his pants, which ended up surprisingly being the harder task of the two. “We should also check on Red tomorrow.” A long moment of silence loomed over them before Keith broke it with a sigh, kicking his pants off his ankles. “Ignoring it won’t fix what’s done, you know. We owe it to her to check up.” He regarded his shirt, but ultimately decided not to fuck with whatever voodoo was keeping his arm slung, so it was staying on.

“You’re… we should,” he murmured. Keith lowered himself to his back—taking care not to jostle the shoulder on the way down—then threw his good arm across his eyes. He heard Lance’s shoes thunk one after the other against the wall. “She’d do the same for me.”

Keith blew a chuckle.  _ Well, that’s a bit of an understatement _ . But he didn’t verbalise the comment and Lance let the topic drop, continuing to undress while Keith sank lower into the soft mattress-adjacent. At the very least, he didn’t think he’d have to worry about the awkwardness of sharing a bed with Lance for very long: his shortened day did little to offset the events leading up to it, and he could already feel himself drifting gently towards sleep.

Keith was usually a sound sleeper; he didn’t do much tossing-and-turning, anyway. He wondered if Lance was the same—probably not, if he were to hazard a guess. Lance was hyperactive to say the least, not one to ever sit still, and Keith had no reason to believe he’d be any different in b—at  _ night _ . He wondered if there’d be enough space between them to permit for that, without him running the risk of being smacked in the process, and pulled his forearm off his eyes to spare a measuring glance at his empty side.

He didn’t really get the chance to answer his own question; something else caught his eye. Or rather, some _ one _ .

Lance stood with his back to the bed, hands reaching over his head for the collar of his baseball tee. The sight ground Keith’s mind to a halt, something in the back of it telling him it was wrong to leer, but it was overpowered by the voice therein shouting ‘ _ Cute guy! Cute guy! Cute guy! _ ’

And he never pretended to be a master of self-control, anyway.

He watched the shirt slide up and off, baring Lance’s broad shoulders and the narrow waist they tapered into. His eyes travelled along the expanse of smooth skin, marred by the scars he traced in the low light, the red starburst Keith recognised from his tenure with Voltron—the one Lance had earned shielding Coran from a bomb—now faded further, and accompanied by new ones, scraped and slashed across the expanse of his back. Lance yawned, lifting a hand to smooth down his tousled hair, the muscles that comprised his shoulder bunching up beneath taught skin, his bicep flexing impressively.  _ Holy shit _ , Keith’s breath caught.  _ Has he been working out? _ He shifted onto his side for a better view, and—

A spike of pain drove down the length of his arm. He gave a shocked yelp, sitting up and grabbing at his elbow, curling in on himself and squeezing his eyes shut to contend with it.

“Keith?” In an instant the bed beside him dipped, a warm hand pressing to his back. “What’s wrong?”

“‘S fine,” he ground out, the jolt evening out to a duller throb until it paled in comparison to his embarrassment. “I rolled over on it by accident.” He didn’t much care to explain  _ why _ he’d done so.

Lance chewed on that a moment, then his hand slipped away, the bed creaking as he stood. “Y’know what? They gave me this stuff to treat your shoulder, let me go grab it.”

Keith picked his head up just in time to catch Lance slipping past the bathroom door and out of sight. Judging by the sounds coming through the sliver left in the doorway, he rummaged through any manner of things, leaving Keith to wonder how it could’ve gotten buried already when he’d had it for less than a day. The sound cut off abruptly and he emerged once more, brandishing a small jar in his hand, kicking the door shut behind him and rounding to his side, tucking a leg underneath him and tossing the jar onto the bedding.

It bumped up against Keith’s knee on landing, and he reached across to pick it up with his good hand, turning it over and finding a label affixed to its glass face. Scrawled across it was alien writing that was nothing more than gibberish to him—for the life of him, he’d never be able to understand why his Voltron mind-meld connection magically gave him the ability to understand any spoken language in the universe, but never bothered to translate written.

“No clue what it is,” Lance mused, fingers working at the cinch binding the shoulder in place with determination, if not practised understanding, “but they said it’d speed along the healing process, just like the stuff for our concussions, and it hasn’t killed you yet.” He shrugged, vocalising an indiscriminate sound of victory when one of the bindings popped loose.

Keith cracked off the lid and lifted it to his nose, taking a whiff of the stuff and immediately recoiling from the stench, holding it to arms length and gagging.

“It’s not  _ aromatherapy _ ,” Lance joked.

“Yech. Smells like moldy asscrack.”

Lance barked a laugh, leaning in. “Let me smell.” Keith held it up for him, and after a second he jerked away, laughing into a cough. “It’s like horse shit baking in the hot sun.”

He set the jar down. “That’s specific. And you’d know that  _ how _ ?”

“I worked on my aunt’s farm for a summer, a few years back.” He got the sling undone, using it to hold Keith’s arm up himself and slowly lower it down to his lap before clearing the fabric. “Trust me, it’s not a smell you want to get used to. Lift your right arm for me.”

Keith did, and Lance’s hands went to the hem of his t-shirt, sliding it up. His knuckles brushed against the small of Keith’s back, and he caught his surprise at the sensation, stopping short of protesting— _ it’s not weird _ , he assured himself.  _ There’s a perfectly understandable reason Lance is undressing you. So uh… don’t  _ make _ it weird _ .

“Pretty boy Lance McClain working a farm?” Keith was impressed (and more than a little thankful) that his response came out as evenly as it did. He pulled his arm out of the shirt when Lance’s hands came around to it, his head following soon after in the same manner. “Not sure how much I believe that.”

Lance tsked, taking his time to work the shirt down the injured arm. Keith watched at the care in his movements, caught unawares at just how  _ gentle _ Lance could be with him. “I’m more than just a pretty face, Keith.” He managed to liberate the shirt off the end of Keith’s wrist, then tossed it to the floor somewhere by Keith’s boots. “How else would I have learned to milk a cow?” Hands now free, Lance grabbed the open jar and dug a finger in it.

“Wh—hang on,” Keith protested, albeit belatedly, reaching for it, “let me do it.”

“Too late, ‘s already on my hands. Grab your elbow.” Keith acquiesced, reluctantly, and stabilised the bad arm against his stomach. “We’re basically having a slumber party right now. Think of this like me braiding your hair—not that I couldn’t do that too probably, what with your mullet.”

Keith scoffed. “I never was big on slumber parties.”  _ Had to have friends for that _ , he didn’t elaborate.

“Shocker,” Lance deadpanned, spreading the cream across his deltoid. “If you want, we can do our nails after this, and talk about the boys we like,” he jeered.

“Pass.” Particularly on the latter. Beneath Lance’s fingers, Keith’s muscles started to flex involuntarily, like little shocks of electricity clenching and unclenching his arm for him. He flicked his gaze over to observe it, catching a twitch beneath his skin. “What the..?”

“Does it hurt?”

“No.” Not  _ much _ , to be precise. It was a strange feeling, though, and certainly not a comfortable one. He realised after watching a few seconds longer that his muscles weren’t only twitching, they seemed to be  _ moving _ as well. Like a wave lapping closer on the shore as the tide came in, the edges of the tear that left a dimple in the blotted skin seemed to stretch closer on all sides, reaching to bridge the gap millimetre by millimetre.

It didn’t relieve itself when Lance pulled away, even. The spasms continued, indeed seeming to get stronger as Lance left to replace the ointment in the bathroom. In Lance’s absence—as well as employing it as a welcome distraction from the sensation—he began to reassemble the sling around his arm. He managed pretty well with it, using his teeth for lack of a second hand, and when Lance returned less than ten seconds later, it was with a silent shake of his head at the display, before he helped Keith finish the job.

“Is that going to stop any time soon?” He asked once Keith was strapped in anew, standing only as long as it took him to shuck his pants off before flopping back down on the bed with a bounce.

Keith raised an eyebrow at him. “Like I’m supposed to know?”

He accepted it with a shrug, yawning. “Alright, well if it doesn’t go down in two hours, call your doctor or something.” He slapped a hand against the wall and the lights dimmed, then he dug himself under the covers, settling with his back to Keith. “G’nite.”

Keith pulled his half of the covers over himself, hoping it wouldn’t actually take two hours to subside. He lay himself down as gently as he could, curling up on his side and shutting his eyes, trying to block out the sensation until it went away.

“Night.”

As it ended up, Keith wouldn’t find out if Lance tossed-and-turned, nor how long the effect of the medication lasted. He fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *in an ear-splitting falsetto* BEDSHARIIIIIIIIIIING
> 
> Also can u tell how much I love bilingual Lance? Even when he’s not speaking another language I manage to squeeze that headcanon in there lmao
> 
> Y’all… Y’ALL……. I’m still not over Lance upping his training in Keith’s absence. U will never be able to convince me that Lance didn’t do that because he missed Keith. What it also means is that I get to imagine them in post-canon (and post-this fic, too) training together and being a fucking power couple like hello???? I’m having a heart of tack,
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please kudo, comment, rec, and/or [reblog on Tumblr!](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/188620257121/left-as-in-gone-chapter-1/)
> 
> **Chapter preview:**
> 
> Lance inched forward slowly, almost tentatively, towards Red. When he reached her, he placed a gentle hand to her jaw, then bowed his head. Keith waited for a few seconds, but nothing changed. He stepped up to Lance’s side, whose focus never wavered, noticing when he got there that Lance had his eyes closed—screwed shut, even.
> 
> Then he snapped them open.
> 
> “She’s there,” he breathed. “It’s faint, but she’s still there.”


	3. Saudade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saudade (Portuguese) - Longing for something or someone absent
> 
> Lance and Keith go in search of Red, and have a little discussion about matters of the heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legit who expected me to actually upload this on time because I did NOT!!!
> 
> Anyway hey hi hope u had a good week. Work’s been slappin my ass seven ways to sunday but I dream of the respite that will hopefully be here soon.
> 
> Also if someone could please tell me why they changed Red’s pronouns from she/her to he/him halfway thru the show… cha boi would love to know. Of everything that happened in vld I think that change strikes me as the most confusing—because I really don’t think it had to be a big deal for a male paladin to pilot a female lion, like it didn’t have to mean anything, but then they changed it so it obviously meant something???? Like I remember when the paladins’ stories were released around the same time as the paladin’s handbook iirc, in Lance’s book Red was he/him but in the handbook Keith referred to Red with she/her. The handbook (or whichever book it was) was written before the paladins’ stories but they were released in close succession so u could literally see they made a change and like ????? BUZZFEED UNSOLVED SOLVE THIS TRUE CRIME???
> 
> My personal opinion—not that anyone asked for it but u can skip past this if u don’t care—is that it had to do with a queer arc with either Keith or Lance, possibly both of them (don’t come for me and my klance theories I know I’m reaching bUT LET ME HAVE THIS) Not saying that being gay and being trans are the same thing, but being part of a non-straight sexuality does force you to interact with gender in a non-cisheteronormative way, and that’s why I believe that the change of Red’s pronouns had to do with the abandoning of an LGBTQ+ arc with one of the red paladins (probably Lance if I’m gonna be real, given the “you are deserving of respect!” art LM dropped after the 2016 US election). I acknowledge the possibility of this being only a blunder, but it doesn’t make sense that there seemed to be a specific point in time where the pronoun shift happened in the show, in interviews/con panels, and in printed merch.
> 
> TL;DR: it didn’t have to mean anything for Red to be she/her and her paladin to be he/him, but it obviously did mean something if they changed it at some point.
> 
> On that cheery note happy PRIDE!!!!!!!! Y’all means all I love u so much and I hope all u LGBTQ(+)ties are thriving both this month and beyond!!!!
> 
> Anyhow here have some more klants

_ “It’s Voltron.” _

_ Keith’s mind stalled on that. “You called me off a mission to work backup for Voltron?” _

_ “Not exactly. They are not the ones requesting this mission; we are.” _

_ It only compounded Keith’s confusion. Since when did the Blade reach out to the Coalition, and to  _ Voltron, _ no less? “Why?” _

_ Kolivan clasped his hands behind his back. “The Coalition is starting to have some misgivings about Voltron. The Blade is not the only faction in this alliance that is beginning to question some of their more recent moves. Our goal is to stem this discord before it fractures the rebellion.” _

_ “Stem it how?” _

_ Kolivan turned to regard him, his expression unchanged. “By bringing Voltron back in favour with the Coalition, through whatever means necessary.” _

_ Keith set his jaw. “So what you’re saying is, you don’t trust Voltron anymore.” _

_ “Their loyalty has never been in doubt. Their judgement, however, is.” Kolivan turned back ahead. “You’ve seen firsthand the sort of cruelty Lotor is capable of, and I’ve fought this war for too many years to believe such an abrupt change of heart from him. Ever since the seat of Black Paladin has changed hands, however, it appears that Voltron has been giving him essentially free rein over their affairs.” _

_ “Shiro’s a competent leader,” Keith defended. _

_ “All the more reason to wonder why his recent moves have been so questionable. That’s where you come in.” Kolivan pushed through the command centre doors, Keith following him through the open hatch. “We will be sending you, alongside one paladin, as our delegate to a summit with the rebel forces. While you’re there, your mission is to gather intel from Voltron’s delegate. Use your ties to the team to learn as much as you can about what’s been going on behind closed doors, while not tipping them off about our… discontent.” He stopped himself in front of the comms desk, Keith hanging back a few paces. _

_ “You want me to go undercover?” Kolivan nodded. “That’s not my strong suit.” _

_ He sighed long and hard, knowing all too well about Keith’s aversion towards delicacy. “Unfortunately, we cannot always choose the roles we must play in this war. This directive might not be ideal for you, Keith—I know the paladins are your friends—but I urge you to put the mission before any feelings you might harbour towards your former teammates.” _

_ Keith swallowed heavily. Kolivan made it sound like he was asking Keith to betray his former team—could he really do that after everything they’d done for him? After they’d been the closest thing to a family since god knows when? _

_ But he wasn’t, he told himself. This was a reconnaissance mission, not a coup—at least, from what Kolivan was sharing. _

_ “Of course,” Keith answered. Kolivan looked unconvinced by his assertion, but remained mum. “Who’s Voltron sending?” _

_ He pressed a button that ignited the screen, bringing it up before his eyes. “I’m letting you decide. Whoever you think would give the best—” _

_ “Lance,” Keith immediately blurted. Kolivan’s finger halted in mid-air before the contact log, much as his sentence did. He turned to raise an eyebrow at Keith, and Keith felt his cheeks grow warm. “Uh, he’s second-in-command, and Red’s the only lion who can get in the base, after all. Plus he’s a blabbermouth—I can’t think of the last time I’ve seen his mouth shut.” _ Huh, that actually makes sense,  _ Keith thought. It was much better reasoning than the truth, if nothing else. _

_ Kolivan pursed his lips thoughtfully, then turned back to the screen. “Right, then. I’ll send word to Voltron and the Coalition immediately. Dismissed.” _

* * *

Walking actually used your arms a  _ lot _ , Keith was learning. Or at least it did when you were negotiating the unstable floor of an alien forest, and were snagging your foot on roots and nearly rolling your ankle every five feet. How skinny ass Lance McClain managed to near-carry him through this terrain in the pitch black of Antyan night was completely beyond Keith.

Despite his reckless nature, Keith had never really had a serious injury up till this point—he just figured he was built a little tougher, and now in retrospect he suspected some of that had to do with his mixed heritage—so navigating through even the basics without his favoured arm was already a pain in the ass. Not eating shit while trying to keep up with Lance, who was leading him about ten feet ahead, with fully functioning limbs and a surprising amount of endurance (Keith decided he was definitely working out; there’s no way Lance stopped needing to incessantly whine about how tired he was after more than five minutes of physical activity just  _ spontaneously _ )? That was like trying to walk on fucking marbles.

But he refused to give up, just as he refused to ask Lance to slow down, even if it  _ was _ to compensate for an injury. Maybe old habits die hard. Maybe he knew Lance would never let him hear the end of it. Likely a combination of both. But Keith wasn’t a whiner; as aforementioned, that was usually Lance’s job.

“Ugh, where is she?”  _ Right on cue _ , Keith thought as Lance paused, hands going to his hips. “There’s no way we walked this far the night we crashed.”

Mercifully, it gave Keith the opportunity to close the distance between them. He staunchly refused to pant and let the other know how winded he was, his pounding heart and burning lungs be damned. “I knew we should’ve brought Kavo with us.”

Lance waved a dismissive hand in front of Keith, narrowly missing his nose. “She was busy.”

“She’s visiting a friend in the hospital; I’m pretty sure they’d still be there when we got back.”

Lance rolled his eyes, restarting a slower pace onward. “She’s not visiting a friend, Keith. She’s visiting a  _ friend _ .” He spared a glance back to see if Keith caught his drift, then huffed when Keith responded with a knit brow. “Okay, so you know the place you have saved in your heart for angsting and bad hair care advice? Usually that spot’s reserved for a special person in someone’s life—or people, I guess.”

“You mean it’s her crush.” Lance made a noncommittal sound, which was close enough to a ‘yes’ for Keith. “Why wouldn’t you just say that then?”

“Because she told me in the strictest confidence! It’s a breach of trust to tell anyone else about someone’s crush—it’s basically intergalactic crime.”

“But you told me anyway.”

“No, you figured it out yourself. I can’t help it if you’re a  _ master of persuasion _ , after—” He was cut off when his foot caught on something, sending him toppling forward onto the ground.

Keith tried to not laugh, and he nearly managed too. Lance groaned into the dirt, then flopped over to sit back on his ass.

“What the hell did you trip on?” Keith dropped to a knee on the ground next to him, pushing away tall blades of grass to reveal… 

_ Oh, it’s red _ .

_ Oh. It’s Red _ .

Keith’s schadenfreude plummeted immediately. The shard was about the length of his arm and half as wide, so he couldn’t hope to clear off the underbrush with only one hand, much less unembed it entirely, so he looked up to Lance. “Lance, it’s… um. You should see.”

Lance quirked a silent eyebrow, then sat forward, hands joining Keith’s to uncover it from the other side. His hands stilled for a moment when he recognised what it was, then he sighed, tearing away at a few of the thicker strands before settling his grip on both sides of the hunk of metal.

“We must be close, at least.” He heaved it up with a grunt, dislodging it from the forest floor and pushing up to his feet, tucking it under his arm. “You take the left, I’ll take right. Meet back here if you don’t find her.”

It didn’t take Lance half a minute, Keith only maybe twenty feet away and still well within earshot when he heard the holler beckoning him over. He followed the sound of his voice until he caught glimpses of red through the foliage, the branches finally parting to give him a full view of the Red Lion.

He winced at first glance, further inspection serving only to deepen it. The good news was that she seemed to still be relatively complete; he suspected the errant piece they’d found was one among very few others.

The bad news was pretty much everything else. A deep, black scorch mark was branded to her side. Long silver scrapes had etched themselves into her red paint, deep enough to breach her hull in some spots. The splintered remains of trees crushed beneath her buoyed the majority of her body a couple metres off the floor, save her head, which rested with her gaping maw facing towards them, setting her cold, lifeless eyes to stare them down. Her limbs twisted and bent in ways that, were she an organic animal, Keith figured they’d’ve put her down already. Somehow, it felt less humane that they couldn’t.

Lance’s back was turned to Keith, but he didn’t need to see his expression to know what he was feeling. He was stock still, his hands loose at his sides, head lifted, not moving a muscle. Then his feet scuffed against the dry dirt as he stepped forward, inching almost tentatively towards her. He stretched his arm out, placing a gentle hand to her jaw when he got there, then bowed his head.

Keith chewed on his lip as he watched from afar for a few seconds, but nothing changed. The cool air on his skin was unsettling, accentuating the absence of Red’s pulsing quintessence on the edge of his consciousness.

Keith had been able to feel the lions’ quintessence his whole life, that connection wavering in his youth for those years he’d spent away from his home, miles farther from Blue in the desert, but there all the same. And now, less than twenty feet away from his own former lion, he couldn’t feel a damn thing. He stepped closer to her, up to Lance’s side, whose focus never wavered. Keith noticed when he got there that Lance had his eyes closed—screwed shut, even.

Then he snapped them open.

“She’s there,” he breathed. “It’s faint, but she’s still there.”

Keith released the breath he’d been holding. “She’s as tough as they come.”

Lance nodded, and his eyes slipped shut again as he began seeking her out anew. A few seconds passed before he clicked his tongue disapprovingly, adjusted his hand, and tried again.

Keith gave him about ten more seconds, then put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “She needs to rest, Lance.”

Lance sighed, letting his arm drop, opening his eyes. “She’s in no shape to fly anyway,” he admitted.

“The lions repair themselves,” Keith reasoned. “She’s done it before, when I crashed her out of Haggar’s wormhole. We just have to… be patient.” He pursed his lips. Not a strength for either of them.

“We know where she is now.” He took a look around, crossing his arms over his chest. “I should be able to find my way here.”

Keith followed his gaze, albeit not as assured as Lance was by what he saw. “D’you think we can find our way  _ back _ ?” He was regretting not paying more attention on the trek here (and wondering if passing on his pa’s suggestion that he join the scouts when he turned seven was a good idea in hindsight.)

Lance glanced at him sidelong, giving him a light smirk. “I think I can manage. Maybe we should check up on how Kavo and her  _ friend _ are doing.”

* * *

Keith had to concede that Lance could be right about some things, because with the way Kavo was acting around the Anytan in the hospital bed, she was either starstruck or smitten.

Keith watched a respectable distance away, leaning back against the far wall. Lance had originally been doing the same, but after about thirty seconds he leaned over to Keith, whispered to him the words, “Ultimate wingman time,” cracked his knuckles, and sauntered over to perch himself on the end of the bed, jumping into the conversation.

And so while Keith watched from afar, Lance watched from up close. Far be it for him to complain, though—it was evident that Lance was entirely in his element. His grin was unfaltering, his arms waving wildly as he embellished the story of Kavo’s heroic rescue that night they’d crash-landed. Keith folded his arms—or did the best he could, given the sling—but couldn’t hold his own smile down. After seeing the pain in Lance’s eyes that morning when they’d found Red, it was a solace to see the same old, cheerful Lance again.

Even if that Lance was more than a little ridiculous.

“You do realise,” he leaned forward a smidge, “that you’re in the presence of a legend? Kavo is the  _ first _ of your people to ever make contact with extraterrestrial life!”

The bedridden Antyan’s eyes went wide with wonder. “Really?”

He gave an emphatic nod. “Saved our bacon too; if she hadn’t shown up, me ‘n my buddy over there would’ve been toast—eggs, sausage, the whole damn breakfast!” Keith wasn’t proud of the tiny chuckle he had to conceal at the joke—but at least Lance was too enraptured by the sound of his own voice to pay him any mind.

Kavo ducked her head, having the decency to look abashed. “You know, G’tego works at our observatory. If it might be of any help to the two of you, we could always go there.”

“Really?” Keith spoke up. The three of them turned to him, but he only chose to return Lance’s gaze. “Maybe we can find out why this place wasn’t showing on our maps.”

Earnesty leaked into Lance’s expression. “Maybe find our way out too?”

Keith tried not to let his disappointment at dampening Lance’s good mood show. He nodded. “It’s worth a shot.”

Lance turned to G’tego. “If you could take us, we would be so thankful.”

G’tego gave a little giggle, and now she was the one looking starstruck. “The honour would be mine.”

The door next to Keith slid open, and Lance saluted the newcomer. “Afternoon, doc.”

They halted in the doorway, fixing Lance with a curious expression. “Ah, yes. Of course.” They gave a curt nod, then turned to Keith and smiled. “It’s good to see you on your feet. How are you feeling, Keet?”

Keith barely had the time to open his mouth before Lance guffawed. “ _ Keet _ ?” Mirth danced in his eyes yet again, although this time Keith was less than pleased about it.

The doctor’s posture slumped apologetically. “I’m sorry, did I—?”

“It’s fine,” Keith interrupted, just as Lance said: “It’s  _ Keith _ .”

They cocked their head to the side. “Keef?”

“Keith,” Lance repeated.

“K… queef?”

Keith groaned. Lance slapped a hand to his mouth, failing to stem his laughter. “Yep, that’s it!”

“No, it’s  _ not _ ,” he insisted to Lance, then turned to the doctor. “It’s not. It’s Keith. Kah, Kah, Keith.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say  _ caca _ , Keith?”

Keith shot him a glare. “And you  _ wonder _ why girls don’t like you back?” Lance rolled his eyes, his smile dropping. He stuck his tongue out at Keith.

The doctor broke the silent standoff. “Would it be alright to check your arm?” Keith nodded, and a hand went under his elbow. One tug was all it took to dismantle the whole contraption, the cinch around Keith’s waist loosening and his arm suddenly subject to gravity, quickly caught by the doctor’s other hand.

“Wh—how did you  _ do _ that?” Lance squawked.

They brought a third arm up and felt around the tear with a bit of a rough hand. “You’re healing quite nicely.” They brought the elbow up to the side, getting it almost horizontal and forcing Keith to hide a wince. “I’ll give you some exercises that you can start tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make dumb jokes but I think Lance would be proud of me for them so I’m keeping them in. It’s *Griffin McElroy voice* just that good……. South Park humour…..
> 
> I like to think that a universal constant binding our civilisations together is the rough treatment medical professionals give ur injuries :^) that’s one thing I do not miss about physiotherapy I tell u that. Let’s just hope I stay in one piece long enough not to need physio for the next lil while (but u never know with me)
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please kudo, comment, rec, and/or [reblog on Tumblr!](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/188620257121/left-as-in-gone-chapter-1/)
> 
>  
> 
> **Chapter preview:**
> 
>  
> 
> So Lance did toss-and-turn. One hell of a lot.
> 
> The bed beneath them rocked as Lance adjusted for the umpteenth time, yanking Keith off the brink of sleep and straight back into wakefulness.
> 
> Lance aired a long groan, muffled by his pillow. “Keith?” He muttered. “You asleep?”
> 
> Keith refused to answer. He shut his eyes tighter and kept still, hoping Lance would buy the charade.
> 
> “Keeeeith,” he called, a bit louder this time. “Hey.” He poked Keith in the back. “Hey.”
> 
> “I’m _trying_ ,” Keith hissed the answer through his teeth.
> 
> “Ugh, same!” The sheets rustled and Lance flopped back on the bed, judging by the bounce beside Keith. He rolled his eyes. “I just _can’t_ sleep tonight. I mean, I always have trouble sleeping, but tonight’s just—” He trilled his lips “—y’know?”


	4. Kilig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kilig (Tagalog) - The thrilling feel of butterflies in your stomach when something romantic happens
> 
> Keith and Lance make for strange bedfellows, in both the Shakespearean and literal senses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter???? Releasing early?????????? Someone kidnapped me and didn’t even bother to make my clone ADHD fdjkfdjkfd
> 
> (it's still Friday somewhere I'm counting it goddamn it!!!!!)
> 
> Hey hi welcome back!!! I’m happy to see u here again, c’mon over here n let me see how big you’ve grown *pinches ur cheeks* Honestly the two week updates make so much more sense idek how I used to do dis weekly lool
> 
> My initial plan was to tell y’all I put a subtle Fall Out Boy lyric reference in this chapter, but then I realised last weekend that the fucking title of the fic is an unintended reference to a fob lyric, so yeah if anyone catches any more fob lyrics please let me know because at this point it’s just fucking plagiarism and someone’s gotta like call the cops on me OTL
> 
> I thrive off of putting Keith and Lance in awkward situations and exacerbating their crushes on one another. So here, have some more of that!

_There was no grand reunion between the two of them, no running up to hug each other. Just a smile and a nod, as Kolivan debriefed them both in the control centre, and then they were off in the Red Lion. Lance handled himself a lot better at Red’s helm now than he did_ _when Keith had been Black Paladin, but Keith still felt the need to rein in his inner back-seat pilot as they navigated the tricky path out of the base, leaning an elbow on the back of the pilot’s chair to watch Lance’s hands work carefully on the controls._

_ The problem arose, really, once they made it out. For Keith the mission had already started and, knowing Lance, it wouldn’t be easy to keep him close by when they weren’t physically forced to occupy the same space, as they currently were. And given the nature of the information he was looking for, discretion was key—again, something that would be hard to come by once they landed, seeing as though they were supposed to be going to an alliance conference. _

_ But how was he supposed to broach such a topic? Like he’d told Kolivan, he was a weak conversationalist under normal circumstances, and this was anything but normal. _

_ “Things going well with the Blade?” Lance asked casually, interrupting Keith’s derailed train of thought. _

_ “Yeah. Been lots of—um… our missions have been going well.” Kolivan suggested to him before Lance’s arrival that sharing personal information lowers people’s guards when you want to ask them something, so with that in mind he continued. “I found my mother.” _

_ “You—” Lance turned in his chair to gawk at him, and he turned away, staring quite intently at a random spot on the console so he didn’t have to return that intense gaze. It lasted only a moment—and Keith was momentarily thankful the lions couldn’t autopilot like the Blade’s cruisers could—before Lance was forced to turn his attention back ahead. “That’s great, Keith—” _

_ “Yeah—” It really wasn’t. “—so, how are things with Voltron?” _

_ “Oh. Uh, good.” His interruption had halted Lance’s momentum, the first few syllables sticking to the roof of his mouth before he found his rhythm again. “Keeping busy, ‘n all that. Never a day off when you’re the defenders of the universe, you know how it is.” _

_ “How’s the team doing?” _

_“Great, great.” His response seemed tense, like it was coming through grit teeth. “Shiro’s keeping us all on our toes with some pretty exciting missions—edge of your teeth stuff right there, keeps you sharp. Pidge and Hunk are going_ nuts _with all this new Galra tech they’ve got to tinker with. Allura’s been spending lots of time with Lotor—”_ _Lance’s hands clearly clenched on the controls._ Ah, _Keith thought,_ there’s the kicker _“—so she’s happy, and he’s… happy. So that’s good.”_

_ Keith’s mission aside, it almost felt like due recompense to see Lance get a taste of his own medicine there. It was a knee-jerk response, a little vindication served after months of Keith pointlessly longing for a straight guy in love with a goddamn _ princess  _ (as if he could ever compete with that.) But then he gave it a moment’s thought, and furrowed his brow. _

_ “The princess and  _ Lotor _?” Lance nodded. “I would’ve thought… with the whole Galra part…” _

_ “Yeah or, y’know, the whole  _ ‘ _ trying to kill us’ part,” he deadpanned. _

_ “You don’t trust him,” Keith ventured. _

_ “I—” Lance sighed, “have my reservations, I guess. He hasn’t betrayed us _ yet,  _ but I’m still not so ready to believe this Mother Teresa shtick. But the princess does—and Shiro too, more importantly. And whatever Shiro says goes, nowadays.” _

_ “It’s a good thing he’s Black Paladin again,” Keith confessed, more to himself than Lance. “I don’t know how I’d make that kind of decision.” _ I wouldn’t,  _ he thought. _ I couldn’t.

_ Lance chewed on that for a beat, then nodded. “We’re lucky to have him back.” _

* * *

So Lance did toss-and-turn. One hell of a lot.

The bed beneath them rocked as Lance adjusted for the umpteenth time, yanking Keith off the brink of sleep and straight back into wakefulness. It seemed that every time Keith approached the sweet relief of unconsciousness, Lance would move and he’d be back where he started.

Lance aired a long groan, muffled by his pillow. “Keith?” He muttered. “You asleep?”

Keith refused to answer. He shut his eyes tighter and kept still, hoping Lance would buy the charade.

“Keeeeith,” he called, a bit louder this time. “Hey.” He poked Keith in the back. “Hey.”

“I’m  _ trying _ ,” Keith hissed the answer through his teeth.

“Ugh, same!” The sheets rustled and Lance flopped back on the bed, judging by the bounce beside him. Keith rolled his eyes. “I just  _ can’t _ sleep tonight. I mean, I always have trouble sleeping, but tonight’s just—” He trilled his lips “—y’know?”

“Mm.” Keith shifted his arm and turned further on his side, hoping Lance would get the hint.

“Guess it doesn’t help that time is different in space.” He decidedly didn’t. “Like, I had enough trouble sticking to a sleep schedule when I only had  _ one _ timezone to worry about. Now, we don’t even have consistent day lengths! How’re you supposed to get a full eight hours every night when you’ve got planets with two suns?” He was silent for a moment and Keith, fool that he was, thought that might be the end of it. “You know what’s the most shocking thing about space? Keith?” Lance prompted again when his conversation partner had decided to go silent.

Keith exhaled a defeated huff, rolling onto his back and hoping against his better judgement that playing along might make this all end quicker. “No, what’s the most shocking thing about space?”

“No one’s ever, like,  _ down _ .”

Keith’s eyes fluttered open to let him glance sidelong. “Down for..?”

Lance returned his gaze. “You know…” He gave a quick side-to-side with his shoulders, and Keith unfortunately caught his drift, slapping a hand over his eyes.

“Seriously, Lance?”

Lance laughed. “What? C’mon, I can’t be the only one who thought about that! Like, ever since humans became fascinated with extraterrestrial life, it’s been all: ‘ohh no, the aliens are going to probe my butt!’ And like,  _ Star Trek _ ? I wrote a paper on that show once, and it was all about gettin’ alien booty—or at least, that’s what the internet said. Never actually watched it.”

Keith blew a scoff, rubbing the hand down his tired face. “No surprise there.”

“Nah but like,” Lance continued, not even seeming to have heard Keith’s little comment, “who  _ wouldn’t _ want to be the first human to get it on with an alien? Or I guess… well, I can’t be the first anymore, ‘cause your dad got it—”

“Ew, Lance.  _ Ew _ .”

He laughed again. “I know, parents doin’ it is gross, but it’s a fact of life! Plus your dad’s kind of my hero for it, not going to lie.  _ Anyway _ ,” he interrupted his own train of thought, and Keith had never been more thankful for a trademark Lance Segue in his life, “humans are, like, pretty hot. Like as a species—and not to brag, but I’m a pretty prime specimen of human, you know.”

Keith rolled his eyes.  _ Unfortunately _ , he didn’t say.

“But it’s like every planet we go to, everyone’s got more important things to think about! And okay there’s a war going on, fair, but has that ever stopped humans? Maybe that’s the problem: maybe humans are just more horny than other aliens?”

“Seems that way to me,” Keith deadpanned.

Lance snorted. “C’mon, we’ve been in space for over a year now, you’re telling me you don’t miss that sort of stuff at all?”

“Can’t miss something you’ve never had.”

“Never—? Wait.  _ Never _ ?”

“Yeah.”

“‘Kay. But like, you’ve  _ kissed _ someone before, right?”

“No.” There was an uncustomary beat of silence from Lance. “It’s not  _ weird _ ,” he insisted.

“No no, not saying it is,” Lance replied, and to his credit it sounded fairly sincere. “‘S just… surprising.”

“How? I hated almost everyone in fighter class.”

“That doesn’t mean anything; you can hate someone and still want to bang ‘em. Plus you were, like, top of the class— _ everyone _ knew that, not just the pilot school. You never used that to hook up with girls?”

“I wasn’t interested in anyone at the Garrison.”

Lance blew a disbelieving scoff at the ceiling. “Yeah? Well, what’s your type? Brains? Boobs? Blondes?”

“Boys.” He practically croaked it out, resisting the urge to clear his throat in the stale silence that filled the air.

It lasted a painful few seconds, before Lance breathed out an, “Oh.” He paused another beat, then shifted on his side, facing Keith. “So what, you thought you were the only gay kid at the Garrison?”

Keith lowered his gaze, feeling Lance’s pierce into his profile. “No, it wasn’t that. After all, Shiro met Adam in flight school.”

“Adam? Like, Officer Wright,  _ that _ Adam?”

Keith nodded. “They were engaged.”

“Huh.” He tucked his hands under his pillow. “Not sure how I missed that.”

“They kept it under the radar, mostly. The Garrison wasn’t really happy about relationships of any kind, so they wouldn’t flaunt it. And that was kind of… you won’t—I couldn’t exactly  _ go up _ to anyone with the assumption of ‘hey, you’re gay, I’m gay.’ It’s different.”

Lance shrugged. “Fair enough. The Garrison’s not exactly the best place to explore your sexuality, I’ll give you that. Hell, it took me getting launched into space to figure out I was bi.”

Keith looked back to Lance, who returned him a sheepish smile. Keith had the impression his eyes were wide with shock, so he tried his best to rein his response—and his expression—in. “O-oh, that’s cool.” He suddenly became very aware of the fact that they were less than a foot apart, in their underwear, in the same goddamn bed. God, he really hoped Lance couldn’t feel his racing heart right about now.

“Yeah. I mean, you meet people from different planets and you kind of realise, gender’s a weird thing to get hung up on? Like, your head doesn’t wait to know if someone’s a guy or a girl or what to start… um… this is weird. Sorry.” He rolled away to his back, rubbing a hand against his temple, and Keith’s heart went out to the poor guy.

“Weirder than talking about my parents having sex?” He tried to pass it off as a joke, and to his relief, Lance blew a soft chuckle. He dropped the hand to his stomach, and they shared a laugh. “It’s awesome, Lance. You being bi.”

“Yeah. Um, actually, you’re kind of the first person I’ve told? So if you don’t mind keeping it to yourself…”

Keith nodded. “Of course.”

“Honestly, I was a little bit terrified that it was going to come out. Like, we were going to form Voltron one day, and the mind meld thing was going to broadcast ‘Lance is bi! Lance is bi!’ for everyone to hear.”

Keith scoffed, though he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t feared his own secrets being outed in much the same manner. “You’d have to be thinking it pretty hard, and we all know that’s not your strong suit.”

“Asshole,” Lance cursed, but it was tempered by a yawn. “‘Kay, I think you’ve bored me to sleep by this point,” he clearly fibbed, “peace out.”

Keith turned back on his side. “G’nite, then.”

“Thanks, by the way,” he murmured after a moment. “For boring me to sleep.”

Keith chuckled. “Anytime, Lance.”

* * *

Keith woke up to an empty bed for the first time since landing on Antya. He was typically the first of them up, with Lance usually rousing once he got out of bed—a surprisingly light sleeper for one so late to rise back on the castle ship—following Keith’s morning routine a half-step behind until they met Kavo together for breakfast.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t seize the opportunity to spread himself across both their designated sides and indulge in an extra few minutes of sleep. He’d never slept in anything larger than a bunk his entire life, and after months of being crammed into the sleeping quarters with every other Blade at the base, it was a goddamn breath of fresh air to finally have some room to himself.

When he did eventually get up, it was to the realisation that Lance wasn’t the only one missing: Kavo was too. There was no note left for him, but she had left some food out on the table (hopefully of the edible variety—Lance had discovered the hard way two nights ago that some Antyan food did  _ not _ sit well with humans.)

Maybe they didn’t plan on being out long? Keith, uncharacteristically, wasn’t too concerned about their absence. He figured he’d know if something was wrong with Lance, through whatever Voltron mind meld bullshit they had. It had worked before they joined Voltron, bringing them all together to rescue Shiro and find the Blue Lion, surely it’d still work after Keith left, right?

He sat alone for breakfast, then did his best to clear his leftovers away (or at least made it look like he gave an effort to clean up after himself) before returning to the bedroom. The doctor had given Keith the all clear to take the sling off and start rehabilitation exercises, so he sat himself on the edge of the unmade bed and unclasped the sling, setting his arm down in his lap.

He regarded his bare shoulder with a curious eye. The site of the wound was still bruised up, mottled purple trickling outwards, but it now set itself on the backdrop of a bright red flush, the entire area appearing quite swollen. He brushed his fingers along the delt—hot to the touch, but the gap left in the muscle had finally been bridged.

He flexed his left hand, then tested his elbow, curling it up a few times. That’s when the bedroom door was flung wide open.

“Hey Keith, I’m going to need your underwear.”

Keith gaped at Lance, whose face quickly devolved into mortification as they both registered those words. He held a finger up, then backed out of the doorway, closing it before him. He re-entered after a second’s pause, wearing a sheepish smile.

“Hey, so I’m about to ask you a totally normal question for a very good,  _ not weird _ reason—”

“ _ No _ ,” he interrupted, folding his arms over his bare stomach and suddenly regretting not having a shirt on. “What the hell, Lance?”

He held both hands up in surrender. “At least let me explain! Kavo’s got a friend who can make clothes for us, and…  _ priorities _ ,” was all the elaboration he gave, palms turning up to the ceiling. “Past a certain point, it’s just unsanitary.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “We don’t  _ need _ new clothes; what we have is fine.”

“Uhh, us sleeping together half-naked to keep our only set of clothing clean is  _ not _ fine.” He folded his arms. “We’re going to be here a while, so we should prepare for it.”

“And you need  _ my _ underwear because..?”

“Listen, I’m not going to make any assumptions about your preferences—that’s a very personal choice. Plus I’m not about to ask what business Antyans have going on  _ down there _ ; this is just the easiest way.”

“Easy  _ how _ ? What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

He let out a frustrated growl. “I don’t know, Keith! Take a long-ass shower, go commando for a few hours, live a little!” He turned staunchly towards the window, a hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks. “Start coming up with your  _ own _ solutions for a change, not just problems for me to fix.”

A retort was ready on Keith’s tongue, but he let it go with a sigh, deciding instead to stand in search of his t-shirt on the floor of his bedside. “So we’re really stuck here then, huh?” Lance grunted an affirmative, and Keith pulled the shirt over his head. “For how long, do you reckon?”

“It’ll be a few weeks before I can put Red back together, then it’ll take some time before she’s ready to fly again.” He sighed. “But still, even if we have a ship, I can’t guarantee that we fly out of here safely.”

He gently pulled his injured arm through the sleeve. “What do you mean?”

Lance pursed his lips, turning back to Keith. “I still can’t figure out why we crashed in the first place. Nothing showed up on our scanners, so whatever we hit’s somehow being cloaked, but it doesn’t seem like it was made by anyone on this planet. Their technology is not advanced enough for that.”

“So we stay grounded until we figure out what we’re up against. Have you tested out your comms yet?”

Lance nodded. “Nothing. Obviously, they’re stronger with Red—and hers are stronger than my suit’s—but all I’ve been getting is static. Whatever’s keeping this planet off the radar must be disrupting signals too. I guess that means the mission’s on hold ‘til we can figure something out.”

_ Right, the mission _ . Maybe it was for Lance, but perhaps this delay was just what Keith needed to compensate for his interrogation (in)abilities. He just hoped Kolivan and the Coalition would wait long enough for Keith to return before making any sort of move; the more Keith thought about it, the less he believed the Coalition was looking to settle matters peacefully.

Nonetheless, Keith wouldn’t abide by anything  _ but _ a peaceful resolution. His allegiance may lie with the Blade now, but Voltron had been what brought him there. There had to be a way for him to figure this out; he just needed some time so he could gather information and formulate a plan.

And the Blade liked to bide their time, right? He had a month, by an optimist’s estimate. He hoped it would be enough time. He hoped it wouldn’t be too much.

“Why not just… bring me along to get the clothes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes Adam’s last name is Wright and the only reason is so Shiro can tell everyone when they get married that he “found Mister Right wink wonk.”
> 
> Anyway I love the headcanon that Lance thinks Keith’s some big player cool guy that breaks all the hearts at the Garrison (because why else would Lance be picturing Keith in romantic scenarios??? It’s OBVIOUSLY because he sees Keith as a romantic rival uh huh that’s definitely why) when in reality Keith’s like… /completely/ checked out with regards to his classmates. Everyone else thinks he’s an enigma and standoffish when in reality the boy just has undiagnosed autism and doesn’t care to talk with anyone else lmfao. Yeah Keith’s autistic in this fic just like in all my fics YEAH I’M PROJECTING ON HIM, KEEP SCROLLIN
> 
> Next chapter will likely be out in two weeks again, but before that I’m planning to release a one-shot I wrote in the interim while editing this chapter. So like shameless self-plugging, but if u wanna check that out when it comes out why not subscribe to my pseud and/or keep an eye [on my Tumblr blog](http://www.noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/) for that! It’s tender established relationship smut and yes it is to compensate for me being touch-starved and the encroaching reality that is that I’m never gonna find love wheeeww
> 
> And now time for some shameless elf-plugging *plugs in a Christmas-themed nightlight so u don’t get scared when I turn off the lights after reading u a bedtime story*
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please kudo, comment, rec, and/or [reblog on Tumblr!](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/188620257121/left-as-in-gone-chapter-1/)
> 
>  
> 
> **Chapter preview:**
> 
>  
> 
> Keith loathed the prospect of opening the door up, knowing already that they were going to fight. He could feel it in the air, could feel the irritation seeping into his bones and preparing him to snap at the first short word from Lance’s mouth.
> 
> He gathered his wits, put on a brave face, and slid the door open.
> 
> Lance whirled on his heel when he heard Keith enter, eyes wide in the low light. Keith, for his part, didn’t hesitate to make his way towards his own side of the bed, eyes forward and mouth opening to make a surly comment.
> 
> “Did I do something wrong, Keith?”
> 
> It was enough to make him halt on his feet, jaw snapping shut. He looked to Lance, who returned his gaze with pleading eyes, guilt etched into the shadows pooling in the harsh lines of his frown.


	5. Hüzün

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hüzün (Turkish) - A melancholy derived from a sense of failure in life
> 
> Lance and Keith visit with the Antyan delegation to deliver their pitch for the Voltron Coalition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s the modern Turkish definition according to Orhan Pamuk (according to Wikipedia.) I couldn’t find a real consensus on the definition so I went with the one that seemed most credible and most appropriate for the chapter. Thanks for indulging my gimmicky titles u guys
> 
> Hey there all u baby sea turtles welcome back to my spacious reptile enclosure for another chapter! I hope y’all are enjoying ur summer so far (if ur in the northern hemisphere that is I guess??? If ur not then I hope ur enjoying urself nonetheless) AND PUTTIN ON SUNSCREEN WHEN IT’S SUNNY!!!! DON’T GET BURNED!!! TAKE CARE OF UR SKIN NURTURE URSELF U DESERVE IT!!!!
> 
> If y’all didn’t see yet, I posted [the oneshot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19301104/) I mentioned last chapter. It’s explicit so if that’s not ur cup of tea then no problemo, but if u wanted to check out the tender and slightly awkward established relationship boyos, there’s the link for u!
> 
> Tonight we tacklin intergalactic diplomacy, feelings of inadequacy, and what happens when ur frontal lobe starts to develop!!! WOO
> 
> (also I have a niggling feeling I messed something up with the editing so please if u see a misteak don't judge mi)

A visit to check on G’tego’s progress ended with Keith strictly, and indefinitely, back in the sling. Apparently, the inflammation was an unintended side-effect of the aggressive healing process, and so they froze the joint to help the swelling go down. He’d been given a pass, however, on the night they were to meet at the palace to be formally introduced to the community.

Keith had never before been more thankful for a diplomatic meeting in his life. He’d practically spent the whole day counting down the minutes ‘til evening came and he could tear off the stupid thing.

By foot, they led a procession from the central town square up the hill leading towards the palace, crowds of dozens collecting in their train as they passed—Keith in his Blade of Marmora suit, Lance in his (newly-polished) paladin armour, and who their mind-meld translators now referred to as the High Queen gowned in an intricate outfit composed of multiple layers, a long kerchief bound tightly around her head, the fabric settling just past her shoulders.

Though she wore a benevolent smile—one that swelled a touch when the crowd would get particularly boisterous—she kept her eyes forward, her pace never breaking and posture never sagging, not even when the incline grew steep and Keith’s legs started to burn. He did his best to follow her lead, wearing a stoicism he’d practiced in his time with the Blade of Marmora. The same couldn’t be said for Lance, who practically fed on the hype of the crowd, cheering back at them, shooting finger-guns their way, essentially doing everything short of fucking baby-kissing.

And Keith really  _ wanted _ to be annoyed by that type of behaviour, but the truth was that he kind of missed Lance’s showboating. The Blades were a lot more like Keith than Voltron had been, but he had recognised in his tenure there that they were maybe  _ too _ much like him. And maybe that casual Voltron energy Lance so perfectly embodied was reminiscent of a simpler time—as simple as it can be to fight in an intergalactic war. A time when everyone had their own place in Voltron, when Keith only had one team to answer to. When he knew nothing about being Galra, or the Blade, or his mother.

He mentally shook himself, watching Lance fumble through some hand gesture with a local that seemed to require twice the number of arms he’d been gifted.  _ Now’s not the time for nostalgia _ , he reminded himself. It was a bad idea to get stuck in your own head at diplomatic events, he’d learned. And while public appearances might not be his forte—like they were for Lance—the least he could do is try to be present. He turned his eyes forward again, following the back-and-forth sway of the High Queen’s kerchief as she continued relentlessly ahead.

When they arrived at the palace, he sat side-by-side with Lance at the low, round table populated otherwise by Antyan dignitaries. They all seemed to kneel at their place, while the two of them were given stools to sit at, likely to compensate for their comparative lack in height. After brief introductions courtesy of the High Queen, Lance took his cue to stand and recite his spiel about Voltron, the Galra, and the Coalition. It had been a bit difficult for everyone involved in some spots—Voltron having never encountered a planet that wasn’t already well aware of the Galra threat made this a new, somewhat rocky experience—but the delegation seemed to receive them well regardless of that.

It certainly didn’t hurt that Lance was born for this sort of work. Whereas Keith could barely string together a complete sentence without stuttering in this type of meeting, Lance could go through and say his piece flawlessly and to-the-point, all while speaking from the heart. And now, more than ever before, Lance’s diplomacy skills shone through.

Granted, the two of them hadn’t seen each other in six months, but in times like this it hit Keith that Lance truly was six months more  _ mature _ . He’d been half-anticipating the need to reprimand Lance for interrupting the meeting with a crude joke or a wandering gaze, but the problem never arose.

He’d admit it to himself once and only once: Lance was hot when he was serious. How he pulled his shoulders back and stood up straight like he was at-attention, how his gaze never dropped to the floor meekly, how he gestured when he got caught up in the conviction with what he was saying, how the room seemed to stand still around him, like everyone else was waiting for Lance’s say-so to exhale their next breath (or maybe that last one was just Keith.)

Lance paused, then looked to him expectantly. “… Keith?”

He blinked, sitting up a bit straighter. “Yeah?”

Lance’s brow furrowed for a moment, but he smoothed it out quickly, turning back ahead with a short laugh. “You’ll have to forgive him; I think he hit the nunvil a little early tonight.” The punchline clearly fell on deaf ears, and Lance’s smile faltered. “I guess that joke doesn’t land on planets that don’t have nunvil—anyhow,  _ as I was saying _ ,” Lance was throwing him a bone, and Keith took that as the cue to tune in, “the Blade of Marmora is our main source for intel on the Galra. They have agents on the inside, collecting the maps that the Coalition uses for navigation and to identify our targets—the maps that were in my ship when we crashed on this planet.”

Keith sussed the point Lance had been making, pushing off the tabletop to stand at his side. “The maps of this quadrant are completed—there is no uncharted territory in and around this area, and this planet didn’t show up anywhere on our records. Somehow, you’ve managed to remain hidden from all but the highest security data, from what we have access to see.”

“And I think Keith will agree with me that, from the looks of your planet, the Galra don’t know you’re here any more than we did.” Keith nodded his assent. “They like to make their presence known.”

_ To put it lightly _ , Keith didn’t add.

Someone from across the table spoke up, their voice high and trilling. “Do you mean to say we should prepare for an attack?”

Lance shook his head. “I’m not here to cause panic—and if you joined the Coalition, you wouldn’t need to worry: we’d be able to provide training and support to prepare you if the Galra ever come knocking. My problem is that we can’t find you if you  _ do _ need support. We can’t reach out past the planet; our communications are getting disrupted somewhere in the atmosphere.”

“We’re not even sure how we’re going to take off on this planet,” Keith added, “which would spell trouble if we want to bring in reinforcements against the Galra. Someone’s hiding your planet, and we’re not sure how or why, but it’s something we have to figure out. For our sake, and for yours.”

The High Queen spoke up. “Then what, star-travellers, should be our next course of action?”

“Keith and I need to go back to the drawing board,” Lance answered without hesitation, lowering himself back to his seat. Keith followed his lead as Lance elaborated. “We’ll need more time to figure things out and come up with a plan. In the meantime, all I ask is your guarantee that, when we  _ do _ sort this out, Antya will join the Voltron Coalition.”

A very short silence ensued, though not one without its tension. The Antyan diplomats all turned to the Queen with keen looks, each inscrutable to Keith’s two eyes. She took each of them in with a sweeping glance, then turned to Lance once more. “Something of this importance will need to be handled democratically.” She gave him a peaceable smile. “I trust you understand.”

Lance hesitated a mere moment, then gave a slow nod. “Take all the time you need.” Keith waited for the reciprocal smile on his face, but it never came. Instead, he braced his hands on the table’s edge as the High Queen spoke the conclusions, using the leverage to shoot up like a bullet from his chair the moment the meeting was formally dismissed.

* * *

 

Night had long fallen by the time they made it back to Kavo’s. She had waited up for them, ready to hear all about how their meeting went, but Lance seemed to be having none of it. He passed her by with not much more than a, “Hi Kavo, bye Kavo,” leaving her halfway to her feet, perplexed, and finally, looking to Keith with a confused furrow to her third eye.

“Is there something the matter with him?” She asked, standing to her full height.

Keith shot her a helpless look. Like  _ he _ would know! He almost vocalised much the same, but then reconsidered, pursing his lips and turning to regard the corridor Lance had disappeared into.

“It’s not you; he’s been in a bit of a mood since the meeting.”

“Did it not go well?”

“No, it went great.” All the more reason for his confusion, really. He sighed, glancing back at her. “Don’t worry about it; I’ll handle him. Sorry you had to wait up for us.” After all, who knew a pissy Lance better than Keith?

She shook her head, taking the lead down the hallway, Keith falling in step behind. “No apologies necessary. I only hope Lance’s melancholy doesn’t last.”

Keith scoffed. “He’ll forget about it the second he falls asleep.” Say what you will about Lance—and Keith certainly says enough—but the guy bounces back like a yo-yo.

She gave him a nod farewell when they reached Keith’s stop, leaving him alone to stare down the door ahead. He loathed the prospect of opening it up, knowing already that they were going to fight. He could feel it in the air, could feel the irritation seeping into his bones and preparing him to snap at the first short word from Lance’s mouth.

He gathered his wits, put on a brave face, and slid the door open.

Lance was in his flight suit, armour already stripped off and tossed aside. He whirled on his heel when he heard Keith enter, eyes wide in the low light. Keith, for his part, didn’t hesitate to make his way towards his own side of the bed, eyes forward and mouth opening to make a surly comment about how Lance had talked to Kavo just now.

“Did I do something wrong, Keith?”

It was enough to make him hesitate on his feet one moment, jaw snapping shut. He looked to Lance, who returned his gaze with pleading eyes, guilt etched into the shadows pooling in the harsh lines of his frown.

And it all caught Keith so unawares, Lance’s open vulnerability completely washing his irritation off, leaving him blank—confused, almost. He glanced down in the space between them, then up again. Lance hadn’t moved, waiting uncharacteristically still for his answer.

“What makes you think that?”

Lance’s shoulders sagged, head bowing and hands going to tear the seam on the back of his suit. It occurred to Keith a split-second afterwards that he probably should’ve answered the question. “I don’t know why they didn’t agree to join the Coalition.”

Keith sat sidesaddle on the edge of the bed, reaching back with his good arm to do the same. “They didn’t say no, Lance. They’re just putting it to a vote to make it official.”

“They said ‘maybe,’” Lance corrected, stripping his flight suit off and kicking it into a dark corner somewhere. “Somehow, that feels worse than ‘no.’ Like it’s not even serious enough to give us a hard answer.”

“It’s going to be a yes,” he reassured, struggling to pull his good arm out from its vacuum-packed sleeve. “The queen just doesn’t want to seem like a tyrant in front of the other leaders. No one in their right mind would pass up what you’re offering.”

Lance clicked his tongue, shucking off his shirt. “We’ve never had someone tell us ‘we’ll think about it’ before. Not when it’s the whole team.”

“You’ve  _ also _ never had to pitch to a planet who knows fuck all about the Galra and what they’ve done to the universe.” He tried not to let his frustration show when his elbow snagged on something halfway out. “Every other situation, they haven’t had the time to think it over; it was join the Coalition or get blasted to smithereens.”

He wrestled with the suit a little bit longer, still struggling to free his arm, then he heard Lance’s sigh coupled with the bed creaking beside him. “You’re hopeless,” he muttered practically in Keith’s ear, then took his elbow in one hand, the slack in the other, and guided his arm out.

“I can do it myself,” Keith grumbled. It didn’t have the bite he’d been aiming for, but he didn’t really care; he was fine with it falling softly, like the ‘thank you’ it really was. He got to his feet, confident he actually  _ could _ take care of the rest of the suit now.

“I don’t want to wait ‘til it gets to that point,” Lance confessed, leaning back on Keith’s pillow. “Even with Voltron  _ and _ the rest of the rebellion, we still struggle to push back the Galra. What hope do we have with one botched lion and a planet with absolutely no system of galactic defense?”

Keith furrowed his brow, ripping the suit off with careless abandon once he’d eased it around his stiffened left arm, his shirt soon following. “ _ We _ only found this place by accident, and from what they’ve said we’re the only ones to do so.”

“Only ones since it’s been  _ cloaked _ ,” Lance corrected.

He wiggled out of his pants—Kavo’s friend had made the homage to his skinny jeans just a little  _ too _ skinny, and he struggled for an embarrassing few seconds to get them off his thighs. “And what are the chances that it gets discovered twice in close succession after all this time, and by the Galra?”

“Slim.” Lance barked an unamused laugh. “But we’ve always had a shit time with luck, haven’t we?”

Something in the back of Keith’s mind piped up to agree. As long as he could remember, life always seemed to stack the deck against him. Every time something good happened, misfortune would rear its ugly head to destroy it.

But in that moment, it didn’t feel so real. It felt like the melodramatic narration of an angsty eighteen-year-old boy on the cusp of realising that maybe, just maybe, sometimes chance worked in his favour. His good luck was there all along, hiding in pockets of the mess of a universe he was trying to survive in.

Take this whole mess, for example. Sure, crash-landing on an unknown planet and fucking up his shoulder ten ways to Sunday wasn’t something he was going to remember fondly, but at least he wasn’t alone. In fact, for the first time in a long time, Keith felt he didn’t only have an equal, but he might have a friend, too.

And in the end, maybe the bad outnumbered the good. And that was okay. Because no matter how much it outnumbered the good, it couldn’t ever hope to erase it.

“You know what? Fuck that.” Keith reached under Lance’s pillow ( _ his _ , if you wanted to get technical) and grabbed his pyjamas. “We’re only going to have good luck from here on in. No more bullshit, out-of-nowhere-ass attacks. This is going to work out.”

Lance shot him a wry smirk, one he caught once he’d pulled his shirt on. “You’ve decided that?”

He stepped into his sleep pants, thankful that the elastic fabric necessitated only one quick tug to get them on. “The worst case scenario is that I’m wrong, and you’re right. When’s the last time that happened?”

Lance shot up to his elbows. “Woah okay, pump the brakes. I think you got it backwards there, buddy—or do I need to remind you of the infinity debate?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Sorry I’m not the expert on hypothetical math concepts.” He jabbed Lance’s thigh with a heel. “Get off my side, and go get a shirt on.”

Lance rolled over to his side, then sat up on the edge of the bed, leaning over in search of his own change of clothes on the floor. “It’s as  _ hypothetical _ as any other number, but I don’t see you calling bullshit on five.”

In his newly-vacated spot, Keith sat down, crossing his legs. He grabbed the sling off the floor and slid it on, an expert now at clipping himself in one-handed. “What, you’re going to tell me there’s bigger and smaller  _ fives _ now, too?” He clamped his teeth on a strap, pulling the cinch taught with his good hand.

“No, but—” he huffed. “Don’t try to rope me into another fight, because we’ve settled this already; Hunk and Pidge agreed with  _ me _ . That doesn’t change just ‘cause they’re not here to back me up.”

‘ _ Not when it’s the whole team _ ,’ Lance had said. He’d heard Lance talk like that once before. ‘ _ With Shiro back, that makes six paladins, but there are only five lions. And if I’m right, that’s one paladin too many _ .’ It made him wonder if Lance’s real doubt was about only having one paladin, or if it was just about himself.

He remembered the look in Lance’s eyes when he’d walked in the door, and figured he had his answer.

“They’re going to join the Coalition.” Keith dug himself under the covers. “Antya, I mean. You know that, right?”

Lance straightened, throwing his shirt on. “‘S this part of your war on bad luck?” He answered, sounding not the least bit swayed.

“It’s the truth. You’re Loverboy Lance, after all; has anyone been able to deny you yet?”

“Wait.” He craned his head over his shoulder, eyeing Keith keenly. “You watched that?”

Keith faltered under his gaze, diverting his own to a particular spot on the wall. He shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“I thought you hated those shows.”

“I did.” He chanced a look back at Lance. “Doesn’t mean I hate you guys.”

Slowly, Lance’s expression melted into a goofy grin. “Aww Keith, you  _ like _ us, don’t you?”

He snorted, shutting his eyes. “Mm, sorry, can’t hear you. Already asleep.” He yawned—not on purpose, but he figured it didn’t harm the charade.

Lance huffed, then his weight eased off the bed, voice fading away as he replied. “Whatever. You can pretend all you want, but  _ I’ll _ know the truth.”

Another rasp of a door being opened and shut was followed by silence. In the minutes following, Keith’s consciousness really did start to fade, so he shuffled across to Lance’s side and shut the light, then returned to curl up facing the wall, the creaks of the house and the sounds of splashing water on the other side of the bathroom door ebbing slowly away.

The next thing he heard was the slide of sheets rubbing together, as he felt the shift of the bed next to him.

“Hey.” From his voice Lance sounded wide awake, but no less muffled by the cotton in Keith’s ears. “Bathroom’s free.”

“Mmph.” Keith didn’t move.

“Go brush your teeth.” Still no response. “ _ Nasty _ ,” Lance admonished, settling down behind him nonetheless. “Don’t go blaming me when your teeth rot out and ruin your pretty face.”

Keith smiled, relishing in the knowledge that he’d won the argument. The next morning, he would question if he’d actually heard those words from Lance, or if they’d merely been a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Keith:** *is emo*  
>  **Me:** y es  
>  **Keith:** *is emo but actually a really optimistic guy*  
>  **Me:** _Y ES_
> 
> Also that good good s3 kl dynamic…………. Ffffffffffood. I miss my hims such much… bapy bois,
> 
> Also listen the math thing, first of all I’m with Keith, like I get it from a logical perspective but if something is infinitely large and doesn’t end, how can another infinity be larger and not-end-farther...er????? Second, that was an argument I’ve wanted to write for them for so long (bc the shit-eating grin Lance would serve when Pidge and Hunk tell Keith that, actually, there are bigger and smaller infinities is what I live for,) and I didn’t really intend it to line up with the “leave the math to Pidge” scene reference but u know what??? Accidental allusion before the intertextuality, babey. Shit writes itself sometimes
> 
> Aaaaand because mysticalnights2 on Tumblr [asked](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/185875432251/mysticalnights2-replied-to-your-post-u-ever-have/), the line that made me rly proud was: “And in the end, maybe the bad outnumbered the good. And that was okay. Because no matter how much it outnumbered the good, it couldn’t ever hope to erase it.” [(For context)](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/185866300761/u-ever-have-that-moment-in-writing-where-ur/)
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please kudo, comment, rec, and/or [reblog on Tumblr!](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/188620257121/left-as-in-gone-chapter-1/)
> 
>  
> 
> **Chapter preview:**
> 
>  
> 
> Lance gestured with two hands towards the base, looking back to Keith. “After you, Black Paladin.”
> 
> Keith scoffed—typical of Lance to find the lamest excuse. “I’m not the Black Paladin.” _Never was_ , he didn’t add. “You do it.”
> 
> Lance rolled his eyes, dropping his hands. “Top of the class for fighter pilot,” he ground out, as though it pained him to acknowledge. “You do it.”
> 
> “Actually stayed _in_ the class,” Keith countered. “You do it.”
> 
> “You— _ugh_!”


	6. K'smet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> K’smet (Macedonian) - A preordained coincidence
> 
> Lance gives Keith some advice on dealing with insomnia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH WE’RE HALFWAY THERE
> 
> Six outta twelve chapters, and only five more updates to go (last chap and epilogue always go up together, we keep it classy on Nous Sommes Les Squelettes Dot Ao3 Dot Gov, u know how it is) I can’t believe this shit’s halfway done, and I still have to fucking fix the mess I left for myself in chapters 10/11, fuc my life. But hey, that’s a problem for later me B)
> 
> Waking up? Beside you I’m a loaded gun??? U got that right I got NO CONTROL! Because I wrote another smut oneshot in the time I was SUPPOSED to be dedicating to editing this fic. I went through some Emotions because of my frustration over myself and my ADHD, and between you and me? 0/10, hate emotions, would never try them again (don’t tell my therapist I said this guys Norm if ur reading this I LOVE emotions and having them, it’s a fundamental part of being a human being!!!!!!!!!!!)
> 
> And I lost my train of thought so yeah. Keep an eyeball peeled for that in the next little while, likely before the next chapter update.
> 
> But onto THIS chapter: no express triggers to mention, but I will say there’s some talk about masturbation with no explicit description of it. I don’t think it warrants bumping the warning up to “mature” because of that, but just in case there are people who aren’t super comfortable with it, I wanted to mention it, and basically let u know that it doesn’t escalate past saying the words “jack off.” If ur still not comfortable with it, you don’t miss a lot of plot if you skip past it to the end of the chapter, mostly it’s just character development and shit.
> 
> Hope u enjoy the chapter!

Apparently the thread of commonality bonding all civilisations together was a hatred of stairs.

So far, Keith would be hard-pressed to recall an alien civilisation he’d encountered that  _ didn’t _ have elevators: humans had them, Galra had them, Alteans too—once, he’d gotten stuck in the elevator with Lance during a castle malfunction, and what ensued had quite possibly been the most embarrassing experience of his life, certainly of events that have transpired with a crush—but he’d also never encountered anyone who didn’t have the technology capable of interplanetary travel, so that tempered his expectations. That in mind, it was a short surprise for him that the Antyans also saw the benefit in prioritising elevator technology over other kinds.

As Keith was still in his sling, and G’tego had only been released yesterday from the hospital, the two of them stood back in the cabin as Kavo and Lance winched them up from both sides. The elevator, although remarkable in its existence, still had a rudimentary construction. On either side was a pulley set-up, which—judging by the fact that  _ Lance _ could manage it without complaint—probably didn’t demand that much effort, but did require the use of more than one arm, exempting Keith from the responsibility.

Though Lance’s back was turned to him, he tried not to ogle Lance unbidden in front of G’tego. A few times he’d spare a glance her way, curious if she might try to do the same with Kavo. The results of his inquest were inconclusive: was she sneaking surreptitious, meaningful glances, or were they simply innocent wanderings of her eyes?

Ugh, Lance had really gotten into his head with this Kavo-G’tego thing, hadn’t he? Keith was trying to keep detached, out of respect for both of their privacies. Keyword tried. Maybe it was easier to focus on someone else’s romantic prospects when your own were so stale. Maybe he thought it was really cute when Lance’s face lit up over the topic and he leaned in really close to share the new dirt he’d dug up (even when the two of them were all alone, with no one to overhear their clandestine conversations.)

Maybe it was a bit of both. Sue him.

As they reached the top floor, Kavo flipped a mechanism over her head, and Lance dropped his arms with a groan of relief.

“ _ Finally _ ,” he whinged, arms dangling like limp noodles at his sides. 

_ Well, _ Keith thought, _ so much for managing without complaint _ . He rolled his eyes, and G’tego stepped forward, taking the charge out the threshold that now opened before them. Kavo was next to follow behind, and Lance spun on his heel to follow just as Keith passed, the two of them falling instep. Keith didn’t know whether to be delighted or annoyed by this development, a dilemma he often grappled with in Lance’s presence.

“This is the observatory,” G’tego said, a hint of barely-concealed giddiness bubbling beneath her cooled tone.

She walked in short strides, making her seem to almost float as she led them in a straight path along the radius of the circular room, to what Keith would want to call the outer wall, but was unsure if it would qualify as such: it was a series of pillars set a few feet apart each between open gaps exposing them to the cool evening air outside, seeming otherwise to function merely as a means of holding the roof over their heads. As they approached the edge, Keith’s eyes traced as far down each side as the curvature would permit, finding nothing but more of the same.

As G’tego made it to the ledge, she anchored her two left hands against a column, then turned back to face the three of them. “Down there is the community. Though the observatory’s work concentrates on what is above, it is nice to have the reminder of who our knowledge is meant to serve.”

It brought a small smile to Keith’s lips. It sounded so  _ Shiro _ , a little reminder of home that Keith rarely found in his missions with the Blade.

Lance leaned forward in the corner of Keith’s eye, arm stretching out the open window. “Hey Kavo, there’s your house! Sweet digs,” he added with a grin flashed towards her, before turning back to the vista below, lifting his pointed finger. “And Red should be that-a-ways, just ahead of where the trees change colour.” He directed that at Keith, something he himself didn’t recognise until Lance’s eyes landed on him, expectant.

It was a little bit unexpected, so you’d have to forgive Keith if his throat closed up and all he could manage was a stiff nod of acknowledgement.

“Wow, Lance.” Kavo leaned a pair of shoulders into a pillar. “You seem quite the orienteer.”

Lance blew a short chuckle, puffing his chest.  _ Here we go _ , Keith thought. “Well, I don’t mean to  _ brag _ —”

“‘Course you don’t.” Keith deadpanned, his tone falling a hair short of it due to the smile still on his lips. He’d barely meant to say it, trying to build a habit of holding his tongue in Lance’s presence, lest he start a feud.

Lance let out all the hot air with a huff, lifting a hand towards Keith’s shoulder before catching himself, redirecting for a gentle thump on the back instead. “I had two older brothers with cruel senses of humour, let’s just say I got good at finding my way home by myself.”

G’tego smiled peaceably. “You are correct: the observatory is placed quite optimally to observe the location of your crash site. Serendipity.”

“Serendipity,” Kavo echoed.

Lance cocked an eyebrow. “Serendipity.” He repeated, almost asked with how it lilted up at its end. The two girls gave him a strange look, then each other a knowing, almost conspiratorial smile. Lance turned to Keith and gave an accepting shrug, paired with a look that seemed to say, ‘ _ Girls. Am I right? _ ’ Or maybe, ‘ _ Antyans. Am I right? _ ’

“In any case,” G’tego said, “all the more reason that this is the perfect place for you star-travellers to seek your answers.” She turned around and led them slowly along the wall, Kavo practically leaping to catch up to her side ( _ Come on, Kavo _ , Keith groaned to himself.  _ Even  _ I’m _ not that obvious _ .)

As they traced the panorama outside, a thought popped into Keith’s mind. “G’tego,” he tripped over her name, always seeming to give it one extra syllable, “where were you when the… when you got sick?”

She gave him a curious look. They all did. “Down there.” She gestured to an area bordering the community, where only a few structures stood near the gradient between forest and clearing, then turned back around, Kavo sidling up and starting a hushed conversation between the two of them.

Lance didn’t drop it as quickly, however. His quizzical look fixed Keith a few more moments, then he looked over his shoulder at the area G’tego had just indicated, then back to Keith. “What are you thinking?” It wasn’t a mere invitation to conversation. It was a pointed question.

Keith shrugged, his free hand going to his hip when it itched to cross with the other over his chest. “I’m not,” he answered honestly. It was a momentary spark of curiosity; he didn’t really think to question it.

Lance didn’t push it any further. He furrowed his brow, dropped his gaze to the floor, then looked back up. “They happen in concentrated places, right?” His tone was still hushed. It was meant for Keith’s ears alone.

“You’re asking me?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m  _ confirming _ . From what I’ve heard from Kavo and the diplomats, that seems to be the case.”

“Kavo and the diplomats sounds like a really weird band name.” Lance’s serious façade dropped a moment, and he permitted a snort under his breath. Keith dropped his eyes to his feet, concealing a smirk. He thought Lance might like that one.

“It can’t be a virus,” Lance reasoned, his serious tone returning, “‘cause it’s not contagious, right?”

Keith nodded. “So what, poisoning?”

“It’d explain why it’s so sudden, and so concentrated.” His mouth twisted sourly. “But then what about the natural disasters?”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “What natural disasters?”

“The High Queen mentioned ‘em when we first talked to her. Maybe you don’t remember, you’d just woken up—” he waved his hand in a dismissive gesture “—earthquakes, fire raining, all those things. She seemed to group them all together with the sicknesses.”

“Maybe they happen predictably? Like, every month or so.”

Lance gave a thoughtful nod, and a weird warmth stirred in Keith’s belly. Lance wasn’t dismissing Keith’s theories—hell, he was actively seeking them out. He massaged the fingers into his side where they rest, hoping to remedy the sensation discreetly.

A solid wall rounded into sight, and Kavo pushed back a dark curtain to reveal the way past it. G’tego spun on her heel, walking backwards into it with a gleeful grin.

“In here is the observator,” she thrilled at the end of the sentence, then disappeared into the darkness ahead. Kavo went in behind her, not bothering to hold the curtain open for the two of them as she might usually.

Keith didn’t hesitate to follow. Lance did, but only long enough to give Keith the lead.

His eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness of this room, though the effort was facilitated as a slit in the ceiling began to open, the groan of metal filling the room. Slowly, the observator’s came into view as the ceiling opened like an aperture: a convex glass dome sprouted out above the rounded rectangle of the windowless walls, and suspended above their heads by a series of horizontal beams jutting out halfway up was what Keith was surmising must’ve been a telescope—an enormous one, at that.

Its tapered end reached to about eye height, for a human, the other end pressed to the curved glass ceiling at a diagonal. G’tego clearly restrained herself from attacking the thing in her excitement, rushing towards the eyepiece and latching onto its four handles, then leaning bodily towards the rest of them. After a moment, the contraption gave way to her pull, following her guidance with the rumble of smoothed glass on glass, joints flexing to keep its business end flush with the ceiling.

“This is how we observe the sky above. Now that our star is below the horizon, it is safe for you to use without the threat of damaging your eyes.”

Keith and Lance both exchanged a look, and Keith was hit with a realisation that he figured was hitting Lance at the same time: neither of them knew what the fuck to do with a telescope. Maybe all those astrophysics courses he’d napped through really  _ did _ matter, after all.

Lance gestured with two hands towards the base, looking back to Keith. “After you, Black Paladin.”

Keith scoffed—typical of Lance to find the lamest excuse. “I’m  _ not _ the Black Paladin.”  _ Never was _ , he didn’t add. “You do it.”

Lance rolled his eyes, dropping his hands. “Top of the class for fighter pilot,” he ground out, as though it pained him to acknowledge. “You do it.”

“Actually stayed  _ in _ the class,” Keith countered. “You do it.”

“You— _ ugh _ !”

“If I may,” G’tego interrupted, her smile drawn tight and almost wary. “I’d be glad to direct you in its use.”

Lance gave a clipped sigh, pacing forward to meet her. “Alright, tell me what I’m lookin’ at.”

She swung it a couple dozen degrees to the right, then gave a few short adjustments before gesturing him towards the… well, less of an eyepiece, more of a face-piece. He stuck his head in, and she explained, “That is Urdak, the closest planet to us in the universe—and until you two came along, the only planet we could ever prove existed.”

Keith glanced over at Kavo, leaning back against the wall near the door. Should he go join her? He looked back to G’tego and Lance, not wanting to get caught staring. He decided against it, shoving a hand in his pocket in an attempt to look casual.

“Do you know how far it is?” Lance asked.

“Yes. We have some idea, given our calculations on how to focus our lenses, as well as observing its orbit around our star.”

“What about other stars?”

G’tego stood a little straighter, her response a bit halting. “We’ve… observed none.”

Lance straightened too, looking to her. “None?”

Keith furrowed his brow—planets could be difficult to spot, since most only give off the light reflected from its nearest source. But stars  _ produced _ their own, visible to the naked eye in their proximity, and this planet was certainly close enough to a multitude of major stars that they should’ve been able to see. He thought back to his nights spent on Antya, trying to remember if he’d ever seen a star in the night sky and coming up short, unsure if it was the result of mere inattentivity or something more.

Suddenly, the glass rumbled overhead, the massive telescope sweeping in a quarter turn before slowing to a stop, Lance having resituated himself beneath the lens. With a grunt, he leaned on it again, sidestepping to keep his eyes up on the night sky. After a full 360 was completed, he pulled it down, pointing it as vertical as it could get, needing to squat to fit under it.

“What are you looking for?” Keith ventured to ask. 

Lance didn’t answer him, opting to turn to the Antyans instead, G’tego having wandered towards Kavo to lend Lance the space his journey needed. “D’you guys have north-south?”

“I’m not sure,” Kavo replied after a brief pause.

Lance’s face hardened, but he visibly worked to not let too much frustration show. “How do you tell directions?”

G’tego pointed up, gaze lifted towards the glass bubble. “The circles indicate the direction of the other nearest observatories.” Keith followed the rim of the glass, and sure enough white circles etched against its surface dotted the circumference in an uneven pattern.

Lance huffed, rubbing a hand into his temple. “Okay, okay.” He tapped a finger against his brow, then looked up. “Could you point me in the direction of where our ship crashed?”

Keith’s eyes went wide, remembering Lance’s panicked, “ _ Did we hit something _ ?!” He couldn’t recall much from the night of their crash, but his memory had retained that particular question, curious about it too.

Kavo and G’tego exchanged a look, then moved forward as one. “I found them about six thousand paces in,” Kavo informed, “to the right of the long river, about four hundred paces.”

Keith stepped forward too, stopping to peer just over Lance’s shoulder as G’tego repositioned the telescope according to Kavo’s instructions. He sidestepped into Lance’s peripheral vision, trying to catch his eye. But Lance kept his gaze on the Antyans, so after a moment Keith followed suit.

Once the telescope settled, and Kavo and G’tego stepped back, Lance took up the helm once more. A few minor adjustments this way and that, then Lance’s shoulders drooped, and he clicked his tongue. He stood up again, finally turning to address Keith.

“Look for yourself.”

Keith felt almost meek under Lance’s hard gaze. It’d felt like so long since he’d been treated to it, it was almost difficult to reconcile that this had been the norm for them until very recently. Nonetheless he stepped forward, anchoring himself on one of the handles before leaning in.

And he saw it. Like a group of dead pixels on a screen, a portion of the twilight sky shuddered and glitched in the open air.

Keith’s eyes went wide. “Looks like we  _ did _ hit something, after all.”

* * *

 

When they returned, Keith could sense a distance in Lance. He barely spoke a word to Keith, going straight to bed the moment they retired to their room.

Come the next morning, Lance returned to normal, demanding to know if Keith saw Kavo and G’tego the day before, proclaiming their union inevitable, and insisting they invite him to the wedding.

* * *

 

For what must’ve been the fiftieth time that night, Keith turned onto his right side, knowing full well it would do jack shit to help him sleep. If it hadn’t worked five minutes ago, or an hour ago, it sure as shit wouldn’t work now.

Insomnia was a novel experience for Keith. It wasn’t the first time he’d found himself unable to sleep, surely, but it had been a while since the exhaustion of his life since getting launched into space hadn’t sent him into an immediate slumber.

The past few nights had been an unwelcome change of routine, as far as that was concerned. He had even done away with his sling during the night (and conveniently neglected to put it back on in the mornings,) assuming that to be the root of the issue. Unfortunately, it had done nothing to help him sleep.

It wasn’t as though his thoughts raced—much the opposite, in fact. They felt fuzzy and poorly articulated, much as they should on the brink of sleep. The only problem was that he  _ wasn’t _ on the brink, his body restless, legs tangling in the sheets and torso twisting this way and that, as though it’d somehow fall into the magical position that would grant him merciful rest.

It didn’t. He flopped on his back, frowning up at the ceiling in the darkness.

“Ohhh my  _ god _ , Keith,” the figure beside him groaned. Keith’s stomach clenched, his eyes going wide and shifting to its source, fearing for a moment that Lance was moaning his name in his sleep. “Are you  _ seriously _ still awake? Just go jack off or something.”

He blanched, bunching up the sheets in his hands and pulling them to his chest. Somehow, that was  _ far  _ worse than his initial fear. “Wh—what the hell, Lance?”

“What?” Lance’s tone was just as even, just as flat. He pushed up onto an elbow, lifting his head off the pillow. His eyes were slits in the dark, struggling to stay open and return Keith’s gaze. “Helps me when I can’t sleep.”

“I didn’t need to know that.” He really,  _ really _ didn’t, especially not as his mind—without his permission—thought about how appealing the prospect was, particularly with how difficult personal space had been to come by since he’d joined the Blades.

Lance snorted, voice lifting in amusement when it had no business doing so. “It’s a normal, healthy thing to do. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve done it loads of times since we’ve been here.”

“ _ What _ ?” Keith’s cheeks burned. Yeah, he didn’t need to know  _ that _ , either.

“Never—not like—” He huffed. “I don’t do it in front of you!  _ Jeez _ Keith, I’m not a creep.”

His fingers kneaded in the sheets as he considered the suggestion. He hated himself for doing it, but he considered it. “Well—uh, where would…”

Lance winced. “Now  _ that’s _ getting a little personal.”

Keith’s heart jackhammered, and he slapped a hand to his forehead. “Fuck, not—”  _ Great place to cut off the question, brain _ ! “Nope. Not… no. Definitely not. I meant where should  _ I _ … like, I can’t exactly just run off to the woods—”

“Oh.”

“—in the middle of the night. Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

God, this was fifteen different levels of awkward. He was infinitely thankful for the pitch black of the starless night, the only remnants of light coming from distant lamps of other abodes on the street behind their pulled curtain. Because his face right now felt hot enough to fry an egg on—another area of his body starting to suffer from a similar affliction (unpermitted,  _ thank you very much _ !)

“Bathroom?” Lance suggested.

Keith glanced over to the closed door across the room, a mere handful of paces from the foot of their bed. It was about as private as he was going to get, wasn’t it? His mind raced for another option— _ any _ other option—coming up unfortunately short, maybe in part because half of his mind was occupied by the question:  _ so wait, you’re  _ seriously _ doing this, then? _

Apparently so.

He took his time building up the courage to answer. “You wouldn’t mind?”

Lance dropped back onto the bed. “At this point I’d do it  _ myself _ , if it meant you’d finally sleep.”

He practically jolted at that suggestion—yet another mental image he  _ definitely _ could do without, of Lance sliding on top of him, their legs tangling together, a cool hand cautiously trailing down Keith’s burning skin towards— _ Nope! Hell no, you do not. Pull yourself together, Keith _ !

Lance barked a laugh. “It’s fine, dude. I don’t mind.” He rolled away from Keith, settling on his side.

Keith was thankful for the privacy that granted him, albeit minimal, because when he stood from the bed, his legs wobbled like jello. He knew this walk of shame to the bathroom would be anything but graceful. “Don’t listen.” It was a weird request, but it was the one thing he could ask for.

“Scout’s honour,” Lance mumbled, already sounding sleepier by the second. “I’ll probably conk out by the time you shut the door, ‘f I’m being honest.”

Keith could only hope, but he took cautious steps towards the bathroom, giving Lance the best chance to do good on his word.

* * *

 

His legs were somehow shakier upon return, god only knows however much later. Lance didn’t react when Keith slid through the crack he’d pulled the door open, nor when he tiptoed back to his side of the bed, pulling off the covers and curling up beneath them, eyes slipping shut as his spent body sunk down into the sheets.

“You’re louder than I expected.”

His eyes snapped wide open, mortification dropping like a stone in his stomach. “Y-you said you wouldn’t listen!”

“I tried.” Lance’s voice, drowsy as it was, still lilted with mirth. “Y’don’t make it easy.”

“Like  _ you’d _ be much better,” he spat. And it was a weak retort, he’d admit, but it was all he had. You couldn’t really have much leverage after a situation like this.

Lance gave a dissenting hum. “Growin’ up in a small house with four siblings, y’learn things.”

Keith groaned, burying his face in both his hands. Lucky for Lance Red wasn’t fixed yet, ‘cause if she was Keith’d currently be hitching a ride to one of the darkest, most remote corners of the universe, so as to shrivel up and die of shame.

Lance guffawed. “Keith, chill out. Tomorrow we’ll wake up, go ‘huh, I had the  _ weirdest _ dream last night,’ and forget all about it by the time we have breakfast. Deal?”

He sighed, letting his hands drop. “Alright, deal.”

The bed shifted beside him. “‘Kay, now let’s actually get some sleep.”

Part of Keith wanted to prove Lance wrong—after all of the humiliation to which he’d been subjected—and given his stubborn nature he might’ve tried to cling to consciousness to that end. But it rapidly slipped from his grasp, tension melting from his weary muscles in a matter of minutes.

* * *

 

“Morning.”

“Hey.” The shuffle of linens being kicked away.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Fine.”

An uncertain hum. “No weird dreams?”

A wry smile. “None at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith’s life has basically been no nut november since joining the blades. Press F to pay ur respects
> 
> Legit sometimes freakin it solves ur problems, I can personally attest to this. Ain’t no shame in flickin the ol’ bean if u wanna, no matter what gender u are, what bidness u got goin on down under, whatever. Also ain’t no shame in not wantin to, u do u my dudes.
> 
> I love projecting my sex positivity intensely on Lance. I took an intro to sexuality course and it changed my life (not to mention the focus of my history major,) and consequently Lance’s too whenever I write him. We sex positive, inclusive, and responsible in MY Chili’s. Anyway I’m getting Preachy
> 
> If u follow my [tungle through the jungle](http://www.noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/), u will know by now that everyone wants a soccer klance AU (and that we should all blame Max, voltronseatbelts on tumbltube.) I want one too babies, but I’m also Knows Nothing Except the Pretty Girls who Play Soccer disease, so if u have any thoughts about a soccer kl AU and want to chuck them my way, please send them over in an ask on my blog! I have anon enabled so if u don’t have a Tumblr (or wanna remain anon) u can still send an ask, bc imma keep it real w u chief if u put it in the comments on this fic I will most likely lose it forever
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please kudo, comment, rec, and/or [reblog on Tumblr!](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/188620257121/left-as-in-gone-chapter-1/)
> 
>  
> 
> **Chapter preview:**
> 
>  
> 
> Keith ran his hands through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp in a vain attempt to distract from the electricity dancing across his skin.
> 
> “Keith?”
> 
> He stilled, a pregnant silence filling the air before Lance spoke again.
> 
> “Hey buddy, you okay?”
> 
> Keith nodded, giving himself an extra half-second to clear his throat and find his voice. “Yeah.” He slid back down to lie on his side, facing away from Lance.
> 
> “Bad dream?” Lance suggested.
> 
> He shook his head, curling up on himself and screwing his eyes shut. He tried to ignore the tears that collected there, convincing himself that it was from the mere force of the act.
> 
> “Ah,” Lance exhaled, “so a good dream, then. One you didn’t want to end.”


	7. Goya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goya (Urdu) - The suspension of disbelief that comes when fantasy is so good it seems to be reality.
> 
> Keith gives Lance some help while he works on patching up the Red Lion. At night, Lance returns the favour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hi sorey this chapter is late. I can’t even remember why I timed out but it was a Thing, as far as I can recall
> 
> But I uploaded the [smut oneshot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19906507/) I talked about last chap! So here’s my brief self-promo lol go check it out if u wanna
> 
> I really really loved writing the first part of the second scene in this chapter, like less of a “toot my own horn” thing, more of having fun playing with the different way our brain interprets stimulus and logical thought process when dreaming
> 
> So yes come with me and indulge as I self-indulge

“Fuck!” Lance snatched a hand away from the metal panel his other held up, shaking it out in the open air beside him before sticking his thumb in his mouth, sucking it.

Keith didn’t even react, arms folded across his chest as his legs swung off the edge of Red’s paw. Technically, he  _ was _ here under the pretense of helping Lance out on days like this, but more often than not he’d merely taken to observing as Lance worked, offering support by way of conversation and encouragement (or mostly, he’d admit, playful taunts.)

The sun beat down on the two of them, the temperature near Red feeling about a dozen degrees warmer than it had on the trek to meet her. And Keith supposed that was to be expected, given that she was a giant metal cat, but the knowledge hardly made the heat more bearable.

Lance sat back in his rigging once the panel was secured to her side, wiping the back of his forearm against his brow. In a moment, his hands were on the collar of his shirt, then it went over his head. Keith’s heart jumped a bit in his chest, and he was suddenly  _ really _ glad to have braved the heat today. Lance glanced in his direction, then wadded up the shirt, tossing it down with a single-syllable command:

“Catch.”

Keith did—one handed, even. He didn’t even fumble, just snatched the grease-stained rag out of the air like a bro catching a football from his other bro.  _ Take that, Shiro _ , he declared internally, in vindication for his poor twelve-year-old self trying (and failing miserably) in the last of a very few games of catch his older brother had instigated.

He tossed it aside, leaning back on his palms and trying to not look like he enjoyed the view too much. “‘S looking good,” he commented, looking over the panels Lance had already worked on today.

Lance winched himself down to the next crumpled panel, fumbling to get it detached from Red’s hull as he’d done countless times already. “She’s coming along,” he agreed, “won’t be long ‘til she’s ready to fly again.”

“Yeah?” He called back.

Lance turned briefly to flash him a grin, before his eyes snapped back to his work. “No doubt. She’s getting restless; I can tell. Still can’t say much, but she’s itching to get off the ground.”

Keith smiled, pushing back the kerchief that kept his unruly bangs out of his face. Red, much like her paladins, clearly couldn’t stand being grounded for very long. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much the two of them could do for her in the interim. Like a broken bone, all they could do was set everything in place; it was up to her to heal.

But that’s what they did—dutifully, and now every day. They’d done everything they could to plan their course of action from the ground, now their main objective was getting Red back up and seeing if they couldn’t sneak back out the same hole they’d breached upon entrance.

There was an unspoken agreement that they wouldn’t linger any longer than that. The universe needed them much more than Antya did, filled with planets suffering far worse than random crises and an insular solar system. Keith didn’t like how bitterness ached in his chest at the thought of his time with Lance being over so quickly. Lance was always quick to reassure him that they’d keep Antya in mind, particularly if they agreed to join the Voltron Coalition, and Keith didn’t bother to correct him on the assumption of what was bothering him.

It also brought up the issue of Keith’s mission—you know, the one he’d been so dutifully neglecting up until now? If they had an out, it meant his mission had a deadline, and he’d yet to collect any useful intel off Lance, mostly of his own doing. It wasn’t something he liked to think about, and whenever he brought it up he seemed to do it in just the wrong way, at just the wrong time, putting Lance in a mood that made any sort of conversation stilted.

So far, he knew this: the team was great, the princess and Lotor were getting along great, Shiro and the Black Lion were doing great, Pidge and Hunk’s experiments were going great, and Coran was crazy as usual (translation: great.) Keith doesn’t think he’s ever hated hearing Lance say a word more.

Actually, no. ‘Mullet.’ But ‘great’ came in a close second.

Nonetheless, he gives himself a quota: try to learn about the team at least once every other day. He’d gone slack yesterday and the day before, so today he had to try something.

Lance’s feet hit the dirt, dropping the panel onto the forest floor with only the slightest modicum of delicacy—he’d be banging into it with a hammer to flatten it out in a matter of moments, what’s another dent to the mix?

Keith slid off the end of Red’s paw, figuring he might as well do good on his promise to lend a hand. Scooping up the mallet as he passed it by, he came to crouch next to the panel as Lance unhooked his harness. When Lance joined him, he held it up in offering across the panel.

“Thanks,” he breathed as he took it, and Keith sat back on his heels, content to watch as Lance grit his teeth and flattened out the warps in Red’s armour. Lance might pride himself on his prim and proper looks, but damn it all if manual labour didn’t look fine as hell on him.

“You’re good at that,” Keith tossed out. And he meant it—he’d barely managed to learn basic repairs on his own hovercraft after years of tinkering, let alone how to rebuild an all but destroyed ancient Altean warship.

“Thanks.”  _ Bang _ . “I just think of the time my brother broke my Playstation—”  _ Bang _ . “—‘n imagine it’s his head.”

Keith scoffed. “I mean repair work. How did you learn to do that?”

Lance shrugged, shuffling kitty-corner to Keith so as to aim for another divot. He cut his sentences short, punctuating them with the fall of the mallet. “Learned at the Garrison. When I was in cargo class. They don’t give you engies. So they teach you the basics. Stuff to help you limp home.”

“Not for an alien ship, though.”

He shuffled again, now at Keith’s side. “ _ That _ , I picked up from Hunk ‘n Pidge,” he huffed, though a short smile played on his lips before he brought the mallet up again. “A bit. Can’t understand most… of their gibberish. But some of it stuck.”

He shifted on his feet. Lance hardly ever mentioned the team, unless Keith asked him first. It sounded promising enough to pursue. “You’ve been helping them out, then?”

“Sometimes.” He struck a particularly stubborn dent a few times in succession. “They’ve been working a lot on… things.”

“Things?”

“Just stuff. Lotor stuff.” He sounded like he was really trying to not spit the name like a curse, and Keith recognised his valiant effort, if nothing else, his own bitterness rising tepidly at the memory of  _ why _ Lance disdained the Galra prince in the first place.

His gaze fell to the hammer. Suddenly, he didn’t want to push for any more answers. “Ah.” He ran the back of his hand across his brow to swipe at the sweat collecting there, his thumb inadvertently tugging loose a lock of hair.

The panel rattled as the hammer dropped against it. “Here, you—” Lance’s finger brushed against his temple, pushing the hair back from his face. Keith brought wide eyes back up, and from Lance’s expression, he was about as surprised as Keith was, hand frozen in place just above Keith’s ear. Then he gave a sheepish smile, snatching his hand back. “Sorry, um—forgot about the grease.”

“Oh.” His fingers went to where Lance’s had grazed, feeling the slick of oil against them. “‘S fine.” He ducked his head to conceal the burn of his cheeks, tucking the stray hair under his handkerchief once more. “My hair’s black anyway, so…”

Lance huffed a laugh, turning back to his work. “So are you going to help, or just bug me like usual?”

Keith held his hand out. “Fine, give me the hammer.”

“Nuh-uh.” He shook his head, going straight back to work. “You still… can’t lift your arm.”

Keith rolled his eyes, dropping the hand.  _ Then why even ask? _ “I  _ can _ , just not all the way.”

No matter how many times Keith tried—and he had, ad nauseum—he couldn’t get his elbow up to shoulder height. He tested it again, but it was to little avail, as it reached its newly-determined apex, and no further. It wasn’t that it hurt to go higher; the joint simply stopped.

He sighed, dropping it again. “Man, I miss the castle sometimes. Never had to deal with this shit with the healing pods.”

“You ‘n me both. Her too, probably.” He jerked his chin up to Red. “‘S kind of weird. Not having magical healing abilities anymore. It’s almost like… we’re human again—or half human… in your case.”

Keith chuckled, knocking their knees together. “We’re  _ not _ going down that path again. Just keep whacking your hammer.”

* * *

_ The evening sun cast long shadows across the living room, his own spilling over the threshold as he pushed open the front door. Sand swirled in by his feet, crunching beneath his boots as he stepped onto the front mat. _

_ Dad hated when that happened, said it got in the carpet and took _ ages  _ to get it out. So Keith was cognisant enough to shut the door behind him, even though dad was long gone. Keith had been away for a while too, his muscles raw and aching from the trip back. _

_ But dad had said,  _ “Your mother will be here soon. She’ll explain everything.”  _ So he came back. _

_ He was back again, and so was she. She turned to face him when he entered, her hand lingering on the bulletin board he’d spent a painstaking year filling, organising, and consulting. It had been the longest year of Keith’s life, the one he spent standing before that board. Long enough that he could close his eyes and still picture it in his head. _

_ She was back. He was, too. _

_ Her fingers stilled on the map of the canyon whence the mysterious energy emanated. He wondered how long she’d been waiting for him, wondered if the eighteen years had felt half as long for her as they had him. _

_ He grit his teeth. Her expression was as still as ever. Unreadable. She waited on him to make the first move. _

_ “You’re here.” He willed his voice to steady, hands kneading at his sides with the effort. He was terrified of losing control, that he’d come on too strong and she’d disappear again. And he couldn’t risk scaring her off, not when he was so close to getting his answers. _

_ Her hand slipped from the map as she turned, taking slow steps towards him. “I’m here.” _

_ Keith dropped his eyes as she approached, as if searching the floorboards for the words to say. “Dad said you’d be back to explain everything.” _

_ She nodded. “I’m back.” _

_ “Are you…” He furrowed his brow, finding himself again tongue-tied. “Then, can we talk?” _

_ She stopped a respectable distance from him. A professional distance. “What do you want to know?” _

_ The knot in his stomach resolved, a relief washing over him that was so powerful, it damn near made him cry. “Anything, _ everything _ —how did you get to Earth? Why were you here? Why did you leave? Why—” He cut himself off as her expression finally shifted, clouding with confusion. _

_ “What do you want to know?” _

_ “I-I don’t understand—” _

_ “We can talk about this.” _

_ “I’m _ trying _ ,” he growled, his temper starting to get the better of him. _

_ “What do you want to _ know _ , Keith?” _

_ A lump gathered in his throat, his voice warbling dangerously around it when he spoke. “Where did you go? Why did you leave dad—why did you leave _ me?  _ Why didn’t you ever come back?” _

_ She gave him a pitying frown—one with which he was all too familiar. “We can talk about this later.” _

_Keith blanched. “What do you—” Darkness rolled in from the corner of his eyes, swallowing the light of the sun, then the rolling desert, the walls of his home, and his corkboard, beginning to pool at his feet. “Wait, please—Krolia—”_ _Her expression hardened, an impassive mug once again, fading out of sight._

“Mom!”

His eyes snapped open, blinking away the pitch black for a lesser darkness, for a room basking in the soft light of a distant street lamp out the window. He shot up to sit, the sheets pooling at his hips as he turned this way and that, scanning the room for where she might still be.

Reality seeped in a little slower than consciousness had, lending him a few spare moments of confusion before the realisation hit him: he’d been dreaming. He dropped his head into his hands, breathing a shaky sigh, noticing just then how heavily his racing heart pounded.

He’d been dreaming. She was gone. He  _ wasn’t _ going to get his answers. He ran his hands through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp in a vain attempt to distract from the electricity dancing across his skin.

“Keith?”

His hands stilled, a pregnant silence filling the air before Lance’s sleep-heavy voice broke it again.

“Hey buddy, you okay?”

He swallowed, nodding to give himself an extra half-second to clear his throat and find his voice. “Yeah.” He felt the warble in his chest, and didn’t dare speak any further with it, sliding back down to lie on his side, facing away from Lance.

“Bad dream?” Lance suggested.

He shook his head, curling up on himself and screwing his eyes shut. He tried to ignore the tears that collected there, convincing himself that it was from the mere force of the act.

“Ah,” Lance exhaled, “so a good dream, then. One you didn’t want to end.”

He pulled the sheets tighter around himself in lieu of a response, honing his focus on keeping his breath steady, wishing Lance would  _ for once _ stop being so goddamn observant and let it go.

But he didn’t. “I get those too,” he confessed. “I dream that we’re all safe, that I’m back on Earth, that we’re all happy. More than anything, I dream of my mom—”

A hiccough slipped past Keith’s lips unbidden, cutting Lance off. He cursed himself internally, fighting back the tears that welled up now in earnest.

The bed beside him shifted. “Oh,  _ Keith _ ,” Lance whispered, and the dam burst.

He cursed—aloud, this time—as his sobs began to pour out, the hitch in his throat echoing through the silence of the room with every breath that escaped him. He buried his face into his pillow in a vain attempt to dampen it, knowing better than to hope that Lance would be fooled.

“I’m sorry.” Keith shook his head in lieu of a verbal disputation that would prove impossible at the moment, considering his lungs and heart seemed to be in a footrace to see which could kill him first. A ginger hand came down to rest on his elbow.

Without thinking, Keith seized the hand and tugged it closer, cradling it against his chest in both of his. Were he in any better state of mind, he would’ve been able to resist the urge. But he wasn’t, and despite knowing full well what he was doing, and who he was with, he couldn’t be bothered to care. He hoped for nothing more than that Lance would be gentle when he pulled away.

But he didn’t. His hand flexed in Keith’s grip, and a moment later he shifted closer still, curling up right behind him. He hugged himself close, the fingers of the hand Keith clutched desperately onto tangling in the front of his sleep shirt.

It was like magic—though Keith reasoned it was probably just brain chemical bullshit—that with Lance’s touch, the storm seemed to immediately calm. He was still in a complete fucking state, mind you, but it had become bearable by the mere fact of Lance’s presence. Distantly, he had to wonder if Lance had a point, albeit one heavily decontextualised, before about the wonders of physical intimacy.

“It’s going to be okay,” Lance assured, Keith hearing the words as much as he felt them be spoken against the nape of his neck.

Keith couldn’t find it in himself to disagree. He didn’t believe it at all, but he trusted Lance implicitly. He would always trust him.

“Things are going to be okay for us from here on in, remember? You know I’m being serious when I admit  _ you _ were right.” Keith managed a weak laugh, knowing only Lance could find a way to make him smile in a state like this.

Lance didn’t say anything more, because he didn’t need to. He rubbed soothing circles into Keith’s chest with his thumb, holding Keith steady as he came down, as his breathing evened out, as the room and the bed and Lance’s warmth faded away.

The next voice he heard was Krolia’s, in the darkness. She pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, then whispered, “I’ll always be right here for you, Keith. I promise that I’ll never leave you.”

He faded into a dreamless slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes Keith that was your mother u heard mmhm. I really love thinking about how our brain interprets external stimulus as we dream, too. It’s a pain in the ass when I’m having sleep paralysis and see the lump of clothing on my deskchair that looks like a person, but it’s cool when it’s /not/ sleep paralysis lol. It’s also super cool when it’s gay.
> 
> And we gearin up towards the angst, hoowee!!!! That also means that I actually have to write the ending and resolve that angst………… which is honestly was pretty biphobic of me to do to myself. Internalised biphobia never sleeps I fucking guess
> 
> I’m so tired so I’m just chucking this out and then crashing. I’ll get to comment replies from the last chapter tmo I’m going 2 bed, sry y’all :c but know I love u so much and live for ur comments, stay sexy as hell and take care of urselves
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please kudo, comment, rec, and/or [reblog on Tumblr!](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/188620257121/left-as-in-gone-chapter-1/)
> 
>  
> 
> **Chapter preview:**
> 
>  
> 
> Lance scoffed, picking up the playful banter as he approached. “I’m sorry, did _you_ just repair an ancient alien warship from scraps on a planet that hasn’t invented wrenches? No? That’s what I thought.”
> 
> He laughed, letting his hands fall to his sides. “Good work, Lance.”
> 
> Lance grinned, throwing his arms around him. “She’s back, Keith,” he murmured. “Thank god.”


	8. Odnollub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odnollub (Russian) - someone who devotes their heart to only one other person in their life.
> 
> Keith and Kavo have a discussion about matters of the heart. The Queen sends over good news for the Coalition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sits down in front of u with my hair on fire* *leans casually on one elbow* hey hi how are ya
> 
> We’ve got a fairly short chapter this week, the last before the buildup to the end. We breathe easy today friends foes and… potential lovers? *waggles eyebrows* because, with this chapter, the stage is all but set.
> 
> Also I made Lants say a dirty joke. I was gonna take it out but then I sat myself down… had a real deep chat w myself… and I asked “what would Lance do?” and the answer was “keep in the dumb dirty jonke” so I did.
> 
> Hope u enjoy!!! The chapter I meant, less the dirty joke. But I guess I hope u enjoy that too?

Keith woke up alone. That had become a theme in the past week. Since they’d been making more and more progress with Red every day—and since they had something of an escape plan—Lance focused a lot more of his attention on her, and less on… the rest of them. Yeah.

Not that Keith could exactly blame him, nor that he  _ was _ . ‘Cause he wasn’t.

It wasn’t even like the two of them were close. They had essentially tolerated each others’ presences before this whole fiasco—even when you took Keith’s massive, long-standing crush into consideration—and this experience had been much of the same, right?

Maybe. Except maybe not. Because maybe Keith was overthinking it, but he might have done more than merely tolerate their time together here. He felt like they might’ve even bonded—not that the two of them had a good track record with bonding time. But considering how possible it was that Lance would ‘forget’ this too, as well as the clear indication that their time together was drawing to a close, Keith tried not to get his expectations up too high.

In any case, he’d be back with the Blades soon, as Lance would be with Voltron. They’d be back where they were needed. It was nice to spend some time with Lance, as strange as it might’ve been to say. Nice to reminisce about what was, or daydream about what could’ve been. But war didn’t come with vacation leave—not for Keith, and certainly not for a paladin of Voltron.

With that cheery thought, he decided he was lucid enough to get out of bed and start the day. When he ultimately arrived at the kitchen, it was to Kavo alone. This wasn’t a surprise; he didn’t even bother to ask anymore where Lance was, since the answer was always the same: working on Red. He wondered if he should feel disappointed that Lance seemed so eager for them to part ways, or guilty that he wasn’t putting his full effort into doing the same. It ended up being a mixture of both, really.

In the number of meals they’d solo’d together, Keith had more or less discovered that Kavo, much like him, wasn’t a great conversationalist. It was something he’d only managed to discover when Lance made himself scarce—because Lance’s charisma seemed to pull conversation out of nearly everyone, Keith included. Conversely, his absence made the silent air between the two of them all the more acute, and Keith tried, despite his many fumblings over the last week or so, again to start conversation.

“So,” he stirred the goop in his bowl, “do you… do anything?” He cringed, instantly hearing how unintentionally judgemental it sounded to his ears. A dozen better ways to broach the topic popped into mind the moment he finished the question.

Thankfully, Kavo didn’t seem at all perturbed by the phrasing, smiling warmly. “Yes, in fact I work as a gatherer, collecting foods and supplies for our community and trading for goods with others.”

Keith gave an impressed hum. “How come you’re always here, then?”

Her cheer faltered ever so slightly. “I have been on leave for some time now, during the mourning of my parents.”

“Shit, I’m sorry—didn’t realise—”

She waved two dismissive hands. “It’s quite okay. It’s been some time, but given the tragic circumstances of their death, I’m expected to mourn the entire year following.”

Keith thought back to when he lost his dad, how he’d barely had a moment to collect himself before being ushered off to the home. “Well that’s something, at least.”

“Part of me can’t wait for it to be over.” She laughed. “It sounds so horrible, but it feels like I cannot move on until it is. Before the two of you showed up, I was sick with boredom, trapped by my own house.”

“How did it happen?”

“They perished in a calamity some months ago.”

“It must’ve been hard on you when G’tego went down then, huh?” She nodded. “You two seem… close?”

Her somber expression lightened, and Keith wondered distantly if his face did the same when he spoke of Lance. “I have known her for some time now, since we were young. We were reared together.”

“Ah,” he replied, letting the conversation peter off to the sound of cutlery scraping against plates.

The question niggled at the back of his mind though, Lance really having got to him with the question of G’tego and Kavo’s relationship. He wondered if Antyans even  _ had _ romance in the way humans conceived of it. Not even all humans agreed on the concept; what were the odds that aliens would too? The only proof he had was that Galra—actually no, scratch that. He couldn’t confirm that what his parents had was anything other than a physical relationship. He grimaced, that being about the last thing he ever wanted to think about in any measure of depth.

He thought, instead, of what Kolivan had told him just before this doomed mission had started, about how revealing something personal about yourself could lower someone else’s defenses.

He swallowed a mouthful of breakfast, then started, trying to emulate a casual tone. “Hey, d’you remember the first night I spent here? When you assumed me and Lance would share a room, ‘cause you thought we were, uh…”

She caught on, an embarrassed laugh bubbling up as she touched a hand to her cheek. “Ah yes, I apologise for that, by the way—”

He gave a nervous chuckle himself, shaking his head. “No, no, it’s… um.” He dropped his eyes to his bowl. “We said we weren’t—and we’re  _ not _ —but I… am.” 

He looked up for her reaction through the veil of his bangs, her face pinched in confusion. In retrospect, that hadn’t exactly come out right. He huffed, brushing the hair back in what was more a stressed gesture than the nonchalant one he’d been aiming for.

“I mean I like him,” he glared a hole into the wall, unable to look her in any of her eyes, “like that.”  _ God _ , no matter how he tried to phrase this, he’d end up sounding like a fucking middle-schooler, wouldn’t he?

In his peripheral vision, Kavo sat forward, letting out a delighted squeal.  _ And this is why I never told Shiro _ , Keith silently thought, gritting his teeth for the inevitable. “I had a feeling! The way you two act around one another, it’s like long-committed lovers.”

Keith hid his grimace, turning to face her once more; once Shiro had commented that they bickered like an old married couple, and it’d stirred up the same sort of discomfort he was feeling now. “Yeah, it’s—the only reason I bring it up is… I was wondering if it was the same as the way you feel about G’tego, too.”

She froze for a beat, then caught herself, schooling her reaction into something more passive. “I… haven’t given it much thought.”

Keith might not have been an expert on body language, but he could practically  _ smell _ a lie this obvious. He knew all about hopeless mooning, and the last thing you could possibly do was put it out of your mind.

“But if you did?”

Kavo, genius that she was, took advantage of her role as host and cleared their plates from the table, turning her back to him as she replied, “I suppose—it’s not like I  _ wouldn’t _ consider it.”

Keith chuckled, folding his arms over the tabletop. “So we’re in the same boat.”

“You Earthlings really  _ do _ speak so strangely at times.” She paused a second to start storing things away, then spoke again, tone much more meek. “Was it that obvious?”

“Lance caught on a bit quicker than me, but yeah. Sorry.”

“The two of you have discussed it?” She leaned a hip against the counter, fixing him with a dreadful look that had his cheer sinking like a lure.

“Well… you’ve met Lance, he’ll talk about everything.” It was a paltry attempt at consolation, so Keith decided to do her one better. “I’m not going to tell him anything you tell me, by the way. Whatever you say is safe with me.” He wasn’t great at sharing, so incidentally he’d gotten pretty damn good at keeping secrets. “Have you told her about how you feel?”

“Have you told  _ him _ ?” She countered.

He pursed his lips.  _ Fair enough _ . “It’s… complicated with humans. I’m not sure how it is for you guys, but on Earth there’s a lot of people who don’t think you should be allowed to love someone of the same gender.”

She frowned. “For us it is no issue. I wouldn’t even consider that it might be.”

Keith shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter for me, I guess. Lance is—uh, he wouldn’t have a problem with it, as far as that’s concerned.” He’d be lying if he hadn’t wondered how Lance’s very big, possibly traditional family might handle it, particularly after Lance had intimated to him that he hadn’t told anyone else. “But it’s still scary, you know? To be vulnerable like that.” His skin practically crawled at the prospect of having to actually  _ deal _ with his emotions for once; he far preferred simply bottling them up as he’d done for so long.

Kavo laughed. “A star-traveller, venturing to planets across the universe, afraid of telling someone how he feels?”

He gave a wry smirk. “Well, when you put it that way, it does sound a little ridiculous.”

“I’m not in much place to judge; I too would prefer being shot into the sky over confessing to G’tego. We’ve known each other for so long, it feels a waste to risk what we have on account of my feelings.”

Keith could sympathise with that. His relationship with Lance, albeit still strained, had made unprecedented strides since the night they’d rescued Shiro together. They’d gone from constant animosity to a strange sort of kinship. At one point, when Shiro was still missing, Keith even considered him to be his closest ally in the universe. He dropped his eyes to the table top, picking at his fingernails beneath its surface.

“I get it. Lance and I have come a long way to get to where we are now. It feels a bit ridiculous to hope he could love me, when he’s spent so much time hating me.”

“But he  _ does _ love you, Keith.” He furrowed his brow, looking up at her questioningly. “Not that he’s told me so much, but he shows it in everything that he does.”

“I think you’re misreading something. Remember how he reacted to sharing a room with me?”

“Might I remind you that  _ you _ did as much of the same.”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s different—”

“Of  _ course _ it is,” she interrupted—and was that sarcasm? He’d never imagined she’d had it in her, but apparently Kavo had some bite. She shook her head. “It is far from only that. When you were hurt, he was practically grieving, and as soon as you were safe it was like he was a whole new person.”

The information was practically a shock to Keith. Lance had really been that concerned for him?  _ It’s culture clash _ , he dismissed it immediately. It wouldn’t be the first time social cues had been bungled between them and Antyans. It’s what he told himself, but believing it? That was another story.

“You two love each other,” she continued. “You wouldn’t need three eyes to see that.” She huffed a quick laugh. “Or perhaps,  _ you _ might.” As if on cue, the slit on her forehead split open, and her smile dropped. Keith tried not to openly cringe, making good on his resolution to acclimate himself to it. “I wonder who it is,” was all she offered, before pushing off the wall and striding past Keith, towards the front door.

Left a half-step behind on her thought process, Keith collected himself and followed her. At the entrance to her home, revealed once she slid the door open, was a stranger, assuming a rigid stance that nearly had Keith go ramrod himself out of old habits.

“The queen sends her regards,” they (he? Their voice sounded on the masculine side for Antyans, but Keith was still piss-poor at identifying alien genders) addressed Kavo directly, “and would like to pass on a message to the star-travellers.”

Keith’s ears perked up. “What is it?”

The Antyan’s gaze flicked momentarily to Keith before fixing it back on Kavo. “Would it be appropriate?”

Kavo nodded. “Yes, it would.”

Only then did they turn to Keith. “The queen has accepted the offer extended by the Coalition, under the terms previously stipulated. To officiate this transaction, she requests your attendance as esteemed guests to the sealing ceremony in one week’s time. Do you agree?”

“Ah…” They looked expectant, and though Keith was hesitant to speak on behalf of the whole Coalition like Lance might, he felt like waffling on this wouldn’t fare them well. Besides, he already knew what Lance’s answer would be. “We, uh… yeah?”

“I will relay the message to the court. In the meantime—”

A rumble shook the ground, tilting the other two off-balance as it threatened to knock Keith off his own footing. Keith let a hand out to steady Kavo by her arm, just in time for another tremor, and another, growing closer, louder, and stronger still. Keith’s heart sank as his thoughts immediately leapt to the possibilities of what was coming for them.

The emissary braced themselves against the door frame, whipping out a baton and readying a fighting stance, though Keith doubted it would do much against a supposed force of nature. But he couldn’t much fault them, feeling quite hopeless himself. Were he not steadying Kavo with his good hand, he’d probably have reached for his blade too.

There was a terrible crack that came from the treeline, and a burst of red from its source. Keith’s bones turned to jelly, and he let the tension from his body seep out with a sigh—a laugh, almost—of relief. Lance always had to make a dramatic entrance, didn’t he? Keith’d be cursing him right now if it weren’t for the grin commandeering his mouth.

Red was  _ back _ .

She slowed her canter, skidding to a stop not twenty feet from Kavo’s front door (whether due to Lance’s expert or shitty piloting, Keith couldn’t tell you.) He let go of Kavo and stepped forward, taking the charge ahead of the two dumbfounded Antyans to greet her.

She lowered her head and opened her mouth, and now assured she wasn’t going anywhere, Keith ran the rest of the distance to meet her, resting his hands against her mandible and revelling in the thrum of life beneath his palms.

He was sure he didn’t have the connection with her anymore, now that he was neither the Red Paladin, nor even a paladin in general. But just as sure as he was of that, he was sure that he felt her greeting, her life, her  _ warmth _ , emanate through him.

“Lookin’ pretty good for her age, wouldn’t you say?” Lance’s comment failed to sound as cool as he’d clearly aimed, the giddiness in his voice overpowering his control. Keith couldn’t find it in himself to care, though. Lance descended the ramp slowly, feet dragging from a relieved exhaustion that also lost out against his elation. “I told her she doesn’t look a day over five thousand, but she never buys it coming from me.”

Keith scanned what he could of Red from his vantage point, but he didn’t have to look at it to know. “Not too shabby, considering  _ you _ did it.”

Lance scoffed, picking up the playful banter as he approached Keith. “I’m sorry, did  _ you _ just repair an ancient alien warship from scraps on a planet that hasn’t invented wrenches? No? That’s what I  _ thought _ .” He hopped onto the ground beside Keith.

He laughed, letting his hands fall to his sides. “Good work, Lance.”

Lance grinned, throwing his arms around Keith. Keith’s breath caught in surprise, as Lance leaned heavily against him, his bare arms slicked with sweat and grease across Keith’s back, face buried in his good shoulder. “She’s back, Keith,” he murmured. “Thank god.”

Keith finally collected the presence of mind to return the embrace after a moment. “Well, I mean you  _ were _ the one doing the repair work. So it’d be more like, ‘thank Lance,’ wouldn’t it?” The moment they’d left his lips, he wished he’d only thought those words.  _ Smooth as usual, Keith _ .

Lance snorted, pulling away to give Keith an incredulous look. “You’re so  _ weird _ sometimes, you know that?” He turned to Kavo then, waving a hand and starting a leisurely pace towards her. “Sorry if we scared you! ‘S probably not every day a big metal cat shows up at your doorstep unannounced. But she comes in peace—whereas I usually do it with a curse,” he tacked on under his breath, barely loud enough for Keith to catch, disdain, and roll his eyes at. His eye caught on the emissary of the queen, then he turned over his shoulder to address Keith. “Did I miss anything while I was gone?”

Keith nodded. “We’ve got good news for you—the Coalition, in fact.”

Lance gave him a very keen look, then turned ahead, his pace redoubling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Light chapta light chapta, gotta work for the delicious angst comin up. Have I ever talked about how much I love writing angst? I LOVE writing angst. I’m not a whump kinda guy, like I always strive to resolve my angst, but hoo boy…… oh how I love that angst.
> 
> Anyway space is gay and I decided every Antyan is a wlw or nonbinary if it goddamn KILLS me. Hey humans, ur gender bullshit is so weird and I don’t like it, Antyans have five sexes and gender is recognised as a construct babey. The translators wouldn’t be able to pick up on the nuances without Red fully in commission that’s why we only get shes and theys but I’m the master of this fanfic I drive the fuck truck AND I GET TO DECIDE ON THE WORLDBUILDING AND I SAID FUCK CISHETERONORMATIVITY!!!
> 
> Also cutlery is universal but gender isn’t and I want ppl to know that. U always have to have something to shovel mouthfuls of food into ur food hole but gender? Who needs it!!!! (ppl who want to exert biopower over you but then again this is a fanfic and not a gender theory class so I;m gonna Stope there)
> 
> By the way don’t study linguistics or ur gonna end up like me, nitpicking word choice and trying to communicate the nuances of a robot cat’s health status by the vocabulary used by aliens when the hints are literally so sparing even you, the writer, are barely gonna be able to pick up on them, let alone your readership. I should’ve fucking gone balls to the wall all out and constructed a conlang for the Antyans but then again I would’ve never written the fic. I would’ve been stuck forever trying to figure out which languages I wanted to use to model the syntax and verb structure and we would’ve been here forever.
> 
> Whatever. It’s better than trying to learn /French subjunctive/ (*weeps in fifth year of a french/hist double-major looking ahead at two years of teachers college in french immersion*) Honest if someone could teach me how to remember which phrases demand subjunctive in a way that’s not “memorise all of these phrases c:” I will owe and give you MY LIFE en tabarnak
> 
> Anyway I told myself I was gonna upload this expediently so I could watch the new Invader Zim movie but I didn’t do super good on that. Still probs gonna watch it and wreck my sleep schedule again holla holla! Have fun on the weekend kiddos stay safe stay sexy and by GOD stay slinky.
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please kudo, comment, rec, and/or [reblog on Tumblr!](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/188620257121/left-as-in-gone-chapter-1/)
> 
>  
> 
> **Chapter preview:**
> 
>  
> 
> Keith pulled his hands away, holding them up as he tried to step back. “I’m out.”
> 
> “No!” Lance held fast on his right hand, pulling him back by his shoulder. “Wait wait—I’m sorry!” He laughed. “I’m sorry; that was it, I promise! I won’t be dumb anymore, just _please_ dance with me, Keith.”


	9. Mamihlapinatapai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mamihlapinatapai (Yaghan) - Two individuals looking at each other hoping that the other will offer to do something they both want but are unwilling to do.
> 
> Keith and Lance celebrate the entrance of Antya into the Voltron Coalition, and Keith brushes up on a couple of skills that have gone rusty for a lack of use.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up to the fanfic a week late with a DavidsTea* hhhhhhhhhhey guyssssss……… so
> 
> Welcome back to left as in the gay ear, it’s almost been a month and I apologise but I have a reason!!!! Actually two and their names are Autism and ADHD. I’ve had some big big burnout and my brain is actin a fool so I’ve been doing a bit of recuperating and trying to not guilt myself (emphasis on the try) over it, so yeah thanks so much for ur patience!!!!
> 
> I’ve also just started back at my fifth year of uni, so it’s been a bit of a whirlwind there!!! I’ve had to do things like: remember how to handwrite, relearn how to speak French, hike up 10 flights of stairs from the parking lot to my fucking classes with a full ass backpack??? And ud think I’m exaggerating but no I have a fitbit that tells me just how much agony I’m putting my heart through—have I mentioned I fucking hate cardio???
> 
> This chapter’s got it all: bickering, unspoken confessions, slow-dancing, Me Fucking Up Everyone’s Shit, and chicken tender hurt/comfort. Also it’s the chapter where in the earliest version of this story they fucked, but I went the angst route instead of the smut route much to everyone’s dismay (to be fair to myself tho, it wouldn’t make sense for them to fuck given how the story’s now changed. But still I thought it worth mentioning in the director’s cut that is the author’s notes)
> 
> Btw the costumes mentioned are heavily borrowed from slavic traditional folk costume, because I’m a slav and I wanted to do it babey!!!! It’s based mostly off the costume of my region too because I’ve worn it before (albeit the female version because Cisnormativity babeyy) so like that’s ur fun fact for the fanfic

Given the formality of the first Antyan ceremony they’d attended, Keith had expected the sealing ceremony to be far more subdued than it was. Instead, the occasion seemed more a village dance than anything, community members from every abode flocking to the centre of town starting from mid-afternoon to partake in the celebration.

Now that the sun had set, strands of lights criss-crossing above their heads lit the festivities like the stars missing from the night sky, casting a warm glow over the market square vacated for standing space and—as grew more popular the later the night dragged on—dancing.

Everyone was dressed in their fineries, and Keith and Lance were no exception to that. Though they had both assumed they’d simply wear their flight suits again, Kavo insisted that she clothe them in traditional Antyan garb. She’d spared no detail, apart from some anatomical discrepancies, and no expense.

Keith was clothed in a soft, long-sleeve tunic that fastened tightly just beneath his Adam’s apple (though he’d loosened a few buttons some hours ago,) and billowing trousers that matched, both in the starkest white he’d ever seen. Cinching it tight around his waist was a colourful belt, braided out of what looked like some sort of yarn that held fast as steel wire, and felt about half as comfortable. Needless to say, Keith had spent very little time sitting down in the get-up, and hadn’t ventured much to the tables practically spilling over with food, for fear that either it or he might burst.

A stiff vest of the same colourful fabric hung unbound from his shoulders, and completing the look were the shoes, design warped from the comparably odd shape of his feet but giving off the desired impression nonetheless: soft, made from some sort of animal leather, the pattern of braids on the front allowing enough flexion to let the snug shoe slip on easily.

A flash of reflected light shone from the corner of Keith’s eye, somewhere in the crowd, and he knew he’d found Lance again.

Lance made himself scarce with his own team at events like this, opting to flourish in the perfect environment for extroverts and chat with anyone and everyone he encountered, rather than hang back by some vacated, abandoned table pushed aside like Keith was at the moment. That usually made him impossible to locate without him finding you first (barring the use of comms—something Lance had made good use of, given how many sticky diplomatic situations he’d partied himself into in the short time they’d spent as the defenders of the universe.)

However, Keith had the advantage tonight of Lance’s costume. While his had the same general structure as Keith’s, Lance’s shimmered in golds and silvers woven in the stiff fabric instead of brilliant dyes. It made him a hell of a lot easier to keep an eye on, and made the task of keeping him out of trouble infinitely less arduous.

Not to mention how much it suited him: Lance McClain, dazzling and bright under a thousand tiny lights, like the centre of attention he so constantly demanded to be. Keith couldn’t help but laugh at how  _ à propos _ the get-up was.

Now, he hadn’t spent the  _ whole _ evening mooning over Lance, mind you. Early on, once the formal accord between their two parties was met, he’d even tried his best to talk amongst any familiar face he could find. He and G’tego had spent possibly a half an hour attached at the hip, practically, her raptly rambling about some sciencey stuff that completely flew right over Keith’s head, and him nodding and contributing a ‘for sure’ or ‘no way’ whenever it seemed appropriate. He made a mental note to tell Lance that he should introduce her to Hunk and Pidge, if they ever made it off this planet.

Then, as the eve wore on, as meals were consumed and topped off, as more people congregated and space to dance became scarce, he wandered aside to the relative quiet on the edge of it all, where the cacophony of conversation and the live music blended together and left him alone to recuperate from being abstractly social. Idle people-watching very quickly turned to idle Lance-watching, then turned into a sort of game Keith played with himself. Drinking Lance in from afar was enough reward in itself for playing.

He caught Lance’s glint again, a steady flicker of light now, moving very quickly—undeniably—towards him.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, wiping his smile away and turning his attention askance. He staunchly refused to look back to Lance, not when he grew close enough to reasonably be seen, not even when he swore he could hear his name bubbling up from the indiscernible barrage of noise hitting his ears, selling that he definitely wasn’t searching for him almost compulsively for the last hour at least.

A hand clapped him on his good shoulder, and he faked just happening to notice Lance, goofy grin and all, peering expectantly at him. “Hey,” he called a few notches too loud, ears probably still ringing from constantly being in the thick of the scene. Mercifully, he adjusted—probably when he caught Keith’s wince. “I need you to stop loitering in the corner like a bad boy for a second ‘n come with me.”

“I—” an argument was ready on his tongue (for what, he’d figure out on the fly as always,) but it died there, just as Lance’s hands took hold of his, stepping backward and drawing him out from his haven on the edge of things.

“They’re playing a song in three-four, so we’re going to waltz.” Lance grinned, not granting Keith any wiggle room for protest.

Keith flushed, planting his feet. “No we’re not; I don’t dance.”

“Oh come  _ on _ , Keith,” he whined, his plastered-on smile dipping immediately to a pout. “This is the first thing they’ve played in a time signature I can count, and you’re the only one on this planet who’s got the right number of arms and knees that bend in the right way to do this!”

Keith rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you could manage with someone else.”

Lance huffed. “Well maybe I don’t  _ want to _ ,” he muttered, more to himself than to Keith.  _ Typical Lance,  _ Keith thought,  _ always looking to get his way _ . “Please, Keith? If you don’t know how to do it, I can teach you.”

He reasoned that Lance didn’t know his affect on Keith, didn’t know how weak he was for those big blue eyes, or his stubborn pout, but it still didn’t make it fair for him to use. And he pulled out all the stops tonight—the low light and close proximity certainly not harming his case—and Keith really had to ask himself if it really was all that demanding, if it meant  _ this much _ to Lance.

Still a bit reluctant, he nevertheless stepped forward. “I know how to do it,” he bitterly admitted.

Surprise flashed across Lance’s face for a second, before it split into a beautiful, grateful smile, and he led their procession backwards once more. “You’re joking; where did  _ you _ learn to waltz?”

Keith scoffed, averting his gaze sidelong. “Same as anyone else; I attended gym class in middle school.”

Lance slowed once they reached the edge of the crowd, choosing a spot close enough to be considered a part of it while still giving them some room to breathe. “Never pictured the dropout actually  _ attending _ classes, forgive me.”

Keith quirked a challenging eyebrow. “I’d have to go to school to drop out of it, wouldn’t I?”

“What _ ever _ , mullet.” He let go of Keith’s left hand, sliding his up against Keith’s shoulder. “‘Kay, you can put your hand on my waist ‘cause of your shoulder, but  _ I’m _ still leading, capiche?”

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes to cover the shake in his hand as it went to Lance’s hip, finding a comfortable groove to rest in so his weakened muscles wouldn’t wear so quickly.

Lance held their clasped hands aloft, his chin jutting up like a competitive ballroom dancer, nose pointed defiantly at Keith, but his unrelenting smile betrayed the image. “And one more thing; it’s really important.” Keith met his eyes after a silent beat from Lance, the indication that he wouldn’t continue until he obliged. “I know it’ll be tempting, but you have to promise me you won’t touch my ass.”

Keith pulled his hands away, holding them up as he tried to step away. “I’m out.”

“No!” Lance held fast on his right hand, pulling him back by his shoulder. “Wait wait—I’m sorry!” He laughed. “I’m sorry; that was it, I promise! I won’t be dumb anymore, just  _ please _ dance with me, Keith.”

“Ugh.” He reluctantly resumed their position. “Last chance,” he lied, knowing no matter what Lance could always reel him back in.

Gratitude poured from Lance, warmth bleeding out of him and into Keith’s hands. He dipped his head down, taking the first step forward with his left foot, leading Keith to take his step back. Keith followed in kind, keeping his head bowed for longer than his partner had, in part to ensure that he hadn’t forgotten the skill—basic as it was—in so many years of neglect, but mostly because he knew what was waiting for him when he lifted his head. Any extra time afforded for him to screw up the nerve to look back at Lance was time he wasn’t keen on wasting.

Of course, that only lasted so long, so after a couple iterations of the basic square, he lifted his eyes back up, Lance’s gaze waiting patiently for him there. Keith swallowed, the silence between them feeling entirely too intimate, and the urge to run born from it growing dangerously strong.

“So where’d  _ you _ learn?” He asked, distracting and anchoring himself there at once.

The corners of Lance’s smile twitched upwards. “My sister, Rachel. She was  _ obsessed _ with the Disney princess movies growing up, convinced herself she was going to marry a charming prince, and so she’d  _ have _ to know how to dance for their wedding.”

Keith quirked an eyebrow. “Always have to be prepared for a surprise wedding.”

Lance laughed. “Right? ‘S why I never leave home without a full tux. Anyway, because Marco and Luis were too  _ ‘old’ _ and  _ ‘cool’ _ to play make-believe with her, I got roped into helping out. She said it was ‘cause I was more sensitive than them—she’d always call me sensitive, but that was usually after she twisted my arm enough to make me cry. Still used it to get what she wanted, one way or the other.”

Despite the words, his tone lilted with nostalgia, gaze going distant over Keith’s shoulder. A silent moment passed, then he breathed a short chuckle, like he’d recalled something else, something unspoken.

“And you still remember it?”

“She made me practice a lot.” He smirked. “Besides, it’s  _ obviously _ been a useful skill to have, right? Here I am, out in the middle of nowhere in the universe, and I’m dancing.”

“Well, you made the decision to do it—this wasn’t really an organic happenstance.”

Lance scoffed. “C’mon Keith, you know me. You really think I could hear music and not be compelled to move to it? And we’re not the only ones.” He nodded over Keith’s shoulder, and Keith’s gaze went sidelong, watching the others dance to the same, slow song, albeit none embracing another like the two of them were. “It’d almost be rude not to join in.”

“So it’s a diplomatic waltz?” He turned back to Lance in time to catch the emphatic nod of his head. “Then why not try to participate in their dance?”

“Hey, you want to figure out what they’re doing, be my guest. But I can’t figure out those steps for the life of me, so I’m stickin’ with my guns.” They shared a laugh. “It’s weird, how like… no matter where you go, you can be galaxies away from home, and people are all the same.” His gaze flicked back to Keith’s.

“How do you mean?”

“Like, all this sort of stuff that’s—like yeah, we all sleep, we all eat; we’ve got to do that to survive. But we also play music, and we make food taste good, and don’t tell Kavo I told you this, but I found out she has a collection of racy romance novels.” He waggled his eyebrows at Keith, who laughed. “I don’t know, it’s nice though! It’s like… no matter where who we are, or where we come from, we all just want to love. Be loved. Share love.”

Keith nodded. “It’s like being home, a million light years away.” He’d never felt like he belonged anywhere, really. Not until Voltron happened, not until they became a team.

Keith knew he’d never belong to a where, but on Voltron, he wondered if it was because he was meant to belong to a who. Looking into Lance’s eyes, the reflection of a million lights making them practically glow a dazzling blue, it felt like no matter where he was it was where he was  _ meant to be _ , so long as Lance was there with him.

“Don’t get me wrong, I miss Earth like crazy. But it’s times like this that it doesn’t feel so far away. You can take a memory with you,” he looked to Keith, eyes crinkling under the force of a genuine smile, “bring someone along for the ride.”

“Call me nuts,” Keith said, “but I think I’m going to miss this place when we’re gone.”

“It’s not fair, is it? But it’s for the best. The universe needs Voltron, after all.”

“And Voltron needs  _ you _ ,” Keith tacked on. “You can’t do much without a right arm.”

Lance’s eyes dropped. “Shiro might beg to differ.” Keith huffed a chuckle at the joke, but Lance failed to join in. A terse moment hung in the air, before Lance furrowed his brow, finally picking his gaze up to Keith. “Can I talk to you about h—”

The drumbeat slurred to a halt, a crash of another nature pulling the rest of the instruments into silence with a scratch not unlike a record. Lance’s eyes went sharp with focus as he planted his feet and looked to the band, a commotion bubbling up as the other attendees likely wondered as they did of what was happening.

Then another player collapsed to the stage, and pandemonium broke out.

An acrid scent tinged the air, pulling a momentary nausea from Keith. He and Lance appeared to be the only ones so lucky for such a mild reaction, the sound of wheezing and hacking coughs filling his ears as the ground trembled with the stamping of feet, the unfortunately familiar sensation of people ready to flee but unsure of where to go.

Realisation travelled in a cold shiver down his back, spreading through his veins, solidifying as a block in the pit of his stomach.

Lance pushed him to arm’s length, forcing his eyes to refocus on Lance’s, wide and alert. “Keith, what do we do?” It was less a question, more a command, even as he deferred to Keith’s decision.

Keith’s mind raced with a million thoughts, each clamoring over another to be heard. Then over Lance’s shoulder, metallic red caught a glint of light. “Take them to your lion, as many as you can fit, and get the hell out of here.”

Lance looked around, eyes darting across the crowd, before a self-assured smirk grew against his lips. “I’ve got the room—me ’n Red have evacuated more than a tiny village before.”

“Good. Check indoors, get the strong to help the weak—save as many as you can.” He turned away, making to flee, but he was stopped by a tug on his hand, still clasped in Lance’s.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“To figure out what the hell’s happening—you don’t need me, and I have to do  _ something _ for them.” He needed to see if this—all of this—was connected. He pulled away again, but Lance held fast, concern furrowing his brow.

“Keith—”

“Just  _ go _ !” He ripped his hand from Lance’s grasp, not about to entertain whatever this was when  _ lives _ were at stake. “They need you right now, Lance!”

Something akin to indecision lingered in Lance’s expression, then it resolved. He clamped his mouth shut, giving a firm nod before turning face, disappearing into the crowd, shouting commands as he went along. Keith saw the flash of Red’s eyes illuminate the scene for a split second, feeling the rumble of her roar in his heart. With that, he spun on his heel and booked it down the road ahead.

His vision cleared as he drew further from the centre, a fog he hadn’t even noticed at first parting before his very eyes. He passed opened doors and windows with lights spilling out from within, resisting the urge to stop and help whoever was inside to safety. It was a difficult one to fight, more difficult than he’d ever realised, but it was the burden of taking command: you had to delegate responsibilities, trusting that your team would accomplish them. And Lance had proven himself worthy of that trust time and time again.

So he let the houses and storefronts blur past him, deking down alleys and skidding to halts at dead ends, growling out curses at the bum shoulder that stood in his way of merely climbing over the obstacles ahead. The adrenaline rushing through his veins distorted his perception of time, so he didn’t know how long it had taken before he eventually made it to the edge of town, but the fog had kept and exceeded his pace by that point, swirling ominously around him, more a foreboding than a threat. His ears rung in the relative silence, the only other sounds being the pounding of his sore feet on the ground and the erratic heartbeat pulsing in his head.

Despite it he still didn’t slow, not when the light became scarce, not when a solitary pillar came mercifully into sight, not until he’d practically slammed into the front door of the observatory, fumbling with the latch and calling it a few unsavoury names before managing to throw it open.

He hesitated by the elevator for just one moment, wondering if he could try the mechanism with one hand, but ultimately accepting that it wasn’t meant to be. So he turned and faced the stairs, taking one last deep breath in a futile attempt to catch it before pressing on.

The stairs spiralled around the building, their rise far too high for Keith to ascend them two-at-a-time without risking a fall and another shoulder dislocation. He gave a momentary shudder at the thought, settling his good hand on the railing and using it to spell his quads whatever break it could. He cursed his stupid, stubby human legs as he pushed on, wishing he’d inherited his height from his mother—hell, even some of his dad’s would’ve helped.

It didn’t end up taking him too long to climb to the top, but Keith worried that the calamity would be over in the time he’d wasted in that windowless staircase. He hurried to the windowed panorama facing town, finding to his relief—equal to his dismay—that the fog continued to spread, spilling down roads and diffusing outwards on the edges of town, casting the scene in a lavender glow he’d been unable to see in the thick of it.

But that wasn’t what interested him. He leaned out the window as far as he could, craning his neck up to try and locate a source. The cloud hung high in the sky, and he flipped himself a hundred and eighty degrees, anchoring himself on the pillar beside him so he could lie back and follow its trajectory up as far as possible.

His suspicions were confirmed; like an inverted tornado, the fog spilled from a singular point in the sky, not spilling straight down, instead curving from somewhere above the forest and aiming for the community. From above Red’s crash site.

There was nothing natural about that; this was a weapon, designed by whoever was hiding this planet from the rest of the universe. Keith grit his teeth, hating to admit it but knowing only one possible culprit remained. A matching M.O. didn’t matter when it was the only logical explanation.

He felt the tug of something far away on his mind, then sensed a warm presence approaching. A familiar presence. A snap resounded from behind him, causing him a terse start, then the elevator door rumbled open, and in walked Lance.

“Got everyone,” he informed, marching purposefully towards Keith. “A headcount confirmed we didn’t leave a single person behind.”

He relaxed, pulling himself back into the room and landing on his feet. “Where are they now?”

“Dropped them off a town over, got everyone to the hospital ‘n came right back.” He stopped beside Keith, folding his arms across his chest and surveying the town.

Keith furrowed his brow. “How’d you know where I’d be?”

Lance shrugged, looking a bit confounded himself. “I didn’t. I… Red and me just felt where we needed to go.” He looked to Keith, who was struck by the exhaustion in his eyes. “She’s tired. She’ll be fine, but her stamina’s not where she’s used to yet. Guess I’ve still got some work to do on her.”

Keith frowned. It had been his call to use Red, though he knew she’d only gotten back on her feet two days ago. He almost apologised for it, but Lance cut him off.

“So why’d we come here?”

Keith nodded to the window. “See for yourself.”

Lance shrugged his acceptance, turning back to the window. After a moment, he frowned, hands going to the frame and leaning outwards, eyes squinting. “Am I supposed to be waiting for something? Or…”

Keith followed his gaze, but what he saw wasn’t the same. Not that the scene had changed, from what he could see, but that was just it: he  _ saw _ less of it, knowing the outlines only from what he’d remembered rather than what he could observe. It was—if you’ll pardon the analogy—foggy, where mere minutes before it had been crystal clear.

“Let your eyes adjust,” he suggested, though he didn’t figure it’d do much good. “A cloud of that shit’s coming down from the sky. It’s not following the wind, though—it’s like it’s being aimed at the town.”

“It’s tracking the lights,” Lance stated.

“You figure?”

“I’m sure.” The look on his face told Keith he’d seen it before. “I fucking called it—this whole thing  _ reeked _ of…”

“The Galra?”

Lance looked at him—or perhaps through him. “Lotor. That slimy fuck—I  _ knew _ he was keeping things from us.”

Keith’s eyes went wide. It’d been more than anything he’d heard about the prince in all their time on Antya. “What do you mean? What did he say?”

“He—” Lance stopped short, catching himself and reeling in his righteous anger, fists balling at his sides with the effort. “I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him—and Galra are heavier than they look. All of this—” he threw a hand out the window “—just proves it.”

Keith wanted— _ needed _ —to know more, but he couldn’t risk clamming Lance up again. He waited silently, with bated breath, for him to continue.

But the conviction fell from his face in an instant. His hand dropped, then went to his temple, eyes shutting. “I… I’ve got to sleep on this.”

Keith’s shoulders slumped, but he did his best to keep his frown a sympathetic one. “Then let’s sleep on this. We’ve done all we can here.”

* * *

 

The ride back in Red was silent, Lance white-knuckling the controls at Red’s limping canter, eyes flicking thoughtfully as his mind raced at a mile a minute behind them. Keith accepted the silence, resting a hand against Red’s hull both to stabilise himself and in the vain hopes of communicating to her his gratitude, and yet another apology.

The fog swirled around them as they approached town, but Lance didn’t bother to seal the cabin—it still seemed to have no effect on the two of them, hardly even registering as a noticeable change in the air pressure. By the time they entered Kavo’s house, Keith’s perception had already adjusted to the point that it faded in the background, quieter in his mind than the silence still hanging over them. A town mere hours ago filled with life was now silent as death. Lance McClain, ever the chatterbox, was now much of the same.

Keith tugged their bedroom door open gently, as though Lance might frighten from a loud noise—and with how frayed Keith’s nerves were at the moment, he wouldn’t fault him if he had. He quickly rounded the bed, tearing the costume, now sweat-slicked and sticking uncomfortably to his skin, off and dropping it on the floor like a breadcrumb trail behind him. He felt the slightest bit of guilt at that, after Kavo and Lance had touted the cultural importance of the regalia, but that significance was long lost on Keith by this point. All he wanted was to return to the comfort of his pyjamas—the shower he so desperately needed too could wait ‘til tomorrow.

Lance idled on the other side of the bed, still fumbling with the cinch around his waist by the time Keith had completely redressed, so he took the bathroom first, letting Lance have whatever time—and whatever space—he needed.

When he re-emerged, Lance was leaning against the doorframe in wait, redressed so much as Keith. He looked a sorry sight, arms wrapped around himself, shoulders sunken, eyes picking up from the floor just in time to catch Keith’s as they passed over him. Keith breathed a word of apology, glancing past him as he moved to vacate the doorway, surrendering the bathroom. Something stilled him a step out, however, urging him to give Lance a second take.

Lance’s mouth quivered, and he reached out for Keith. He stepped up to catch Lance reflexively, like there wasn’t even a decision to be made, wrapping his arms around his waist and squeezing for all he was worth, like he alone could still the tremor wracking Lance’s body. A hand dug into his lower back, while Lance’s other cradled the back of his head, face buried into Keith’s good shoulder as if to hide there from the cruel reality of this war.

Keith, born unto this conflict by virtue of his parents, knew it was futile to act like he could be Lance’s sanctuary from it. Damn it all if that ever stopped him from trying, though.

“It was too close,” Lance muttered. “It’s  _ always _ too fucking close. No matter what we do, we’re always one step behind.”

“We won tonight,” he consoled, rubbing his hand in a soothing circle. “Everyone got out in time.”

“And next time? What if it’s not enough? Those people, Keith, they were  _ dying _ —right in front of me—and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.”

“They didn’t, though.”

“But they  _ have _ .” He pushed away to arm’s length, eyes wide in terror and tears welling up there. “On Antya, on Saiir, on Merrah—I’ve seen them die, and all I could do was watch it happen.”

Keith swallowed heavily. He’d seen them too, knew the pain of surviving in the place of others. He lived it every day. Kolivan had berated him countless times for trying to go back for a fellow Blade, for putting the mission and his own life in jeopardy for whatever chance he stood of saving even just one life. But no matter how many lectures he’d endured, he couldn’t fight that feeling—it was hardwired into him, a duty to put his life on the line to save another.

Maybe it was another Voltron thing. After all, Coran had told them from the very beginning that if you don’t protect others, you’ll have no one to protect you. But blaming yourself for the inevitable casualties of waging war against an intergalactic empire? That was a Lance thing.

Keith shook his head. “We can’t save everyone, and I hate it too.” The disappointment that came with being a washed-up wunderkind knew the burning of Lance’s inferiority complex. A tear trickled down Lance’s cheek, and in the breath of a brave moment Keith brought a hand up to wipe it away. “But we keep trying. If we don’t, who will?”

Lance’s eyes dropped to the space between them, and he fell silent. Whether or not it was to consider this, Keith couldn’t tell.

“Why don’t we go to bed?” Keith offered. “It’s late, and we deserve some rest.”

Lance nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Keith let his hands drop, but Lance kept one firmly anchored on his back. He decided—for convenience’s sake, he told himself—to lead towards Lance’s side of the bed, feeling the hand rest there until he pulled back the covers and slid in. It was a bit of an awkward operation to scoot over to his side of the bed, but if Lance noticed the same, he stayed mercifully mum.

“Don’t hold your breath on me spooning you back,” Keith joked, curling up on his good side, “unless you’re willing to give up your precious half of the bed.”

Lance blew a soft chuckle. “‘S fine. I, uh. I prefer big spoon, anyway.”

He still hadn’t climbed in. Keith glanced over his shoulder. “I’m okay with that.”

Lance took a moment to reply, grappling with Keith’s intentional ambiguity. “You’re sure?” He finally asked, uncertain.

“Of course.” He tamped down a smirk that threatened to tug on his cheeks.

Lance’s breath stuttered—a relic of his earlier tears—then the bed dipped. Keith’s heart jumped a bit in anticipation, then jumped once more as Lance’s heat enveloped him again. Like he had last time—to think such a thing had a last time!—he took hold of Lance’s hand, his palm covering the back of it and their fingers interlacing.

Lance was gentle with him, nothing like Keith’s desperation the night Lance had held him after his nightmare. Cautious, almost. His arm squeezed around Keith once, settling him close enough to feel the jackhammer of Lance’s heart against his ribcage. It forced Keith to take a deep, slow breath, as though he could steady Lance’s pulse by proxy.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” He could hear the smile in Lance’s voice, though the words were soft as the breaths they puffed into Keith’s hair. Keith hummed in question, and Lance elaborated, “You’re a little spoon.”

Keith scoffed. “I’m not  _ any _ kind of spoon.”

“Hardass Keith Kogane pretends he hates people so they don’t know he likes being  _ held _ ,” he taunted.

“I tried being nice, but keep testing me and I’ll make you sleep on the floor.” It was an empty threat, and they both knew it.

“You  _ would _ , but then who’d be here to spoon you?  _ Touché _ .”

“You can’t say  _ ‘touché’ _ if it’s your own argument,” Keith pointed out.

“Wrong again; I can and I just did.”

Keith groaned. “Good  _ night _ , Lance.”

Lance’s breath shuddered anew, but it was released as a laugh. “Thank you, Keith,” he murmured, a bit more genuine this time.

Keith squeezed his hand a bit tighter in response.

* * *

 

When Keith woke up, Lance was still there, breathing soft snores into the nape of his neck. Keith prolonged the moment as long as he could, but eventually his heavy bladder won out, and he carefully extracted himself from Lance’s hold to tiptoe to the bathroom, for once successful in it.

When he emerged from his much-needed bath, not ten minutes later, the bed was empty once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Keith’s sixth-grade gym teacher:** it looks like today we’ve got more boys than girls  
>  **Keith, immediately:** *throws his hand up* I can dance the girl’s part, teacher  
>  **Keith’s teacher, remembering how Keith got in a fistfight last gym class with one of the other boys because someone stepped on someone’s foot:** oh no… that’s okay Keith…
> 
> AKA Keith is early/mid-teen me, “please miss let me dance with the pretty girls so I don’t have to touch any of the smelly boys also I’m definitely straight” (YES I’m bi but the whole expectation of heterosexuality combined with me being ace defos fucked me over to the point where I’m still extremely uncomfortable with expressing any sort of attraction towards boys anYWAY—)
> 
> *starts crankin out a jamming tune on the kazoo* THE UNSPOKEN YEARNINGGGGGGG
> 
> Listen I don’t know how evident it was but Lance’s emotions when Keith essentially ran away the moment he felt he needed him the most? Not to toot my own horn but the cinnamon topography. I’m trying not to go all english teacher on y’all’s asses because the story should be able to stand alone and communicate these sorts of things but Lance’s internal crisis has been just a pleasure to write, it’s so juicy and painful I’m LOVING IT
> 
> Also u know I had to have them dance together. It’s my trope and I’ll use it HOWEVER MUCH I WANT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There’s just something so intimate about dancing with someone u like but aren’t with yet. Like giving them an excuse to be close, but at the same time they ask themselves if it’s too close? If the other person would be bothered if they were to move closer… if the space between their lips were suddenly to… disappear…
> 
> Much 2 think about. Fellas is it gay???? It better fuckin be!!!!!!
> 
> On another note @ everyone who theorised in the comments thank u so much!!!!!! Y’all wormed my hart and also made me feel kinda bad that I went with the conclusion that I did because y’all’s ideas were way cooler lol. Basically my reasoning was that I wanted it to fit into the Voltron canon, and later post- this fic’s canon, I wanted it to tie into a narratively better ending with all the Lotor stuff going on. I thought this would be a much better way of integrating the Lotor anti-villain-ish stuff than into a flashback in a mind-link he shares with Allura after he fucking dies but I’M NOT SALTY,,,
> 
> Also just as a disclaimer: I’m not trying to be a genocide/cultural suppression apologist. My ethnic background has recent ties to ethnocide (in the past century,) and basically not to go into too much detail about my personal ties to it but the last thing I want is anyone misunderstanding what’s being conveyed here. What I’m not trying to do is judge Lotor’s actions one way or the other. On the contrary, I wanted to do an exploration into how two characters who are very similar to one another in many ways can interpret a situation differently given their divergent vantage points on it.
> 
> This also isn’t meant to be the resolution of the storyline regarding Lotor’s past actions, rather it’s meant to be the jumping-off point for the discussion that I felt canon lacked. I feel that canon failed to explore the depths of Lotor’s position in the Galra Empire, and left the audience confused as to whether or not his actions were justified or justifiable. While it won’t be explored in the bounds of this fanfiction, it’s something I felt would do better with a rewrite, and this was my attempt at introducing exactly that.
> 
> Also Keith’s got snow white hair and glowing green eyes he can walk through the walls disappear and flY— Danny phantom ref aside, I also wanted to introduce Keith’s galra features a bit earlier so they too weren’t just a one-off slapped into the story to make his character design randomly more senksier or whatever the fuck the point of that was lool
> 
> Last thing I hope y’all are ready for the angst. U thought this was the angst????? That’s just the START!
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please kudo, comment, rec, and/or [reblog on Tumblr!](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/188620257121/left-as-in-gone-chapter-1/)
> 
>  
> 
> **Chapter preview:**
> 
>  
> 
> “You need to go.” He pointed at the exit.
> 
> “Lance, let me—”
> 
> “Just get _out,_ Keith!”
> 
> (sorry it’s so short but the rest of the chap is Spoiler City so I can’t share any more lol)


	10. Verschlimbessern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Verschlimbessern (German) - Accidentally making something worse in an attempt to make it better.
> 
> Tensions born from unspoken words come to a boiling point. Keith makes a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y’all, I’m just…… y’all,
> 
> Hope y’all are doing good bc like…. I’m a dumpster fire atm. But really when am I not? Still I had a cold this week, a lot of phobia-induced panic/anxiety, a handful of migraines, and also hella readings for school so we’re popping bottles that this chapter’s out in the first place. U know what’s better than a perfect story? An uploaded story. I’ve said that before I know but maybe if I say it enough I’ll start believing it. Y'all's comments have sustained me tho, thank u so much for showing ur love for this story <3333
> 
> How a propos that Keith’s a bit of a dumpster fire in this chapter too, like parent like son. It’s okay tho sometimes u have to be a chaotic gay and make bad decisions
> 
> EDIT: I'm a fool and forgot but thank u sm Selin sir--cumference for helping me w a bit of the editing in this chapter and also for being just a darlin lysm bby smouch

Keith fancied himself a fairly rational guy. Or, maybe that wasn’t exactly right—he was no stranger to his own impulses, and admitted to them. But he was at the very least a pragmatist—he could, and generally tried to, assess the world around him based on practicality rather than his own desires (his track record following through with those assessments was… another story.)

So here’s the deal: he thinks he and Lance might be A Thing. Or might be becoming A Thing. Or maybe, potentially, could be one.

Maybe not. But also, maybe.

And this wasn’t just wishful thinking! Lance had held him while they slept  _ twice _ now, he’d specifically searched Keith out to dance with him, and… okay, he was still working on the body of solid evidence, he’d admit that. But Lance was bi, and he knew Keith was gay too, and sure, some of that could’ve been explained away by a propensity to do away with ‘no homo’ bullshit—

Actually, wait, was that all it was? Lance had always played pretty fast-and-loose with gender roles; maybe he was just exercising his liberty as a queer guy in an environment where he knew no one would give him shit for it?

Still, that didn’t explain the way Lance would look at him sometimes—and  _ yes _ , he knew that was tenuous evidence, shut up,  _ Pidge _ —and the way it’d make Keith’s stomach flip. Or when he’d touch Keith, how a hand would go to his shoulder every time Lance walked in or out of a room, and how sometimes it would linger there when Lance stayed close.

Lance wasn’t around much anymore—and acted fairly preoccupied when Keith would visit him while he worked on Red—but in the short time they spent together, they got along better than they ever had. They hardly fought at all now, and when they did it never lasted long enough to leave the room with them.

So maybe Keith didn’t know where the two of them stood, in exact terms. What he did know, though, was that he was getting tired of being chickenshit about it.

* * *

It was a warm, weatherless day—precisely one (Earth) week after the evacuation, five days after the community had returned, and yet it seemed to have disrupted nothing in anyone’s day-to-day life in the village.

He’d seen Lance already, which was more than he could say most days, before the evening rolled by, anyway. Albeit, it was brief: Lance had been sneaking out early in the morning, but the rattle of the door had roused Keith, sparing him a moment to ask, blearily, where Lance was headed.

“Red,” was the only answer he’d been given. The door slid shut as Keith’s eyes did much of the same, for another hour or so.

When he got up, Kavo suggested they go out for breakfast, taking him to the outpost where she used to work and picking out an array of delicacies for them to share. After spending a little over a month on Antya, they’d figured out the kind of foods humans could and couldn’t digest. Most things were okay; Anytans had certain minerals used for seasoning he’d learned to avoid, and he knew that anything orange was completely off the table.

They’d sat nearby the outpost in the central square to eat, once again bustling with people as if this hadn’t nearly been the sight of a massacre a week ago. Kavo didn’t seem perturbed by it though, so Keith tried to keep his discomfort under wraps for her sake.

He’d be leaving soon enough anyway, or so was the plan. In the back of his mind, he’d been concocting one of his own, where he and Lance used the breach to send out a distress signal to the Coalition, sitting in wait on Antya and putting out any fires that arose as long as it took for their allies to respond to their call. With Red operational, they might just be able to help this planet, keep these disasters at bay long enough to stem the bleeding until a more permanent solution could be implemented.

But then what? He wasn’t a fool, he knew that was only a delay of the inevitable—that Lance would return to Voltron, and he’d be back with the Blades, just as soon as that was ended. He was still on a time-sensitive mission, one that he might’ve been severely failing at, but one he had to complete nonetheless; he needed to get back to Kolivan with his intel on Lotor.

In his mind, he knew that was where they ought to be. But in his heart, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were meant to be  _ together _ , to follow each other to the ends of the fucking universe so be it.

He felt a hand pat down on his head. “Earth to Keith?” His eyes refocused, the cacophony of the market fading back in, and his attention snapped back to Kavo beside him, smiling almost sympathetically. The hand slid away, reaching down into the basket sat between them. “You seemed lost for a moment.”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, sorry. I’m just—” he gestured out to the people before them “—it’s so different, now. Or, I guess it’s not different  _ enough _ , considering.”

She produced a small, braided pastry loaf, offering it up to him. “Life continues, and I suppose we’ve gotten adept at going along with it. Time won’t wait, and neither should we.”

She seemed in high spirits today, particularly when they’d visited the outpost. A bittersweet bulb blossomed in his stomach when he realised he’d never see Kavo as she was before the loss of her parents. He’d known her as a prisoner to her own house, their first encounter the result of her desperation to return to normalcy. He’d only caught glimpses of what her life had truly been, and once he jetted off in Red, he’d probably never catch another.

He returned her smile, though, accepting the offering. He’d always have a hard time letting go. He envied her ability to do so.

“I guess I could learn a thing or two from you guys.” He broke off an end of the loaf and popped it in his mouth, savouring the sweetness on his tongue.

“Lance very much likes that bread,” she informed. He shrugged, ripping off another piece. “He seemed lost this morning, too. Left the house without so much as a bite to eat.”

Keith shook his head. “He’s been hard to catch this past little while; don’t take it personally.”

She laughed. “You misunderstand me.” She pushed the basket towards him, standing up. “I have some business to conduct at the outpost, but I fear he’s yet to break his fast, himself.” Her smile turned vaguely sinister.

Keith rolled his eyes, scooping the basket up and standing to match her. “Don’t look at me like that. This isn’t some master scheme that’s going to get us together.”

She shrugged. “The end result is your responsibility. I’m simply doing what I can to grease a few hands—give you two some needed private time, and you an excuse to see our resident recluse.”

* * *

He wandered into Red’s open maw, basket cradled against his hip, footfalls echoing upwards, steps almost cautious. His eyes adjusted to the darkness as he stepped out of the daylight and into the dim glow of Red’s inner cabin, listening for the hints of where Lance might’ve been working.

A crash rang through the ship, punctuated by the shout of a frustrated expletive. Keith’s ears perked up.

“Cockpit,” he mouthed, picking up his pace towards it. The basket jostled against him, and for the briefest moment he almost regret the oversight of not having coffee in his other hand. He nearly laughed at the domesticity of it all, a latent desire to copy a scene Adam had so often embodied with Shiro when they sat in their bunk, slaving over reports and assignments while Keith lounged on a nearby desk chair with a video game.

He didn’t have coffee today, but he figured the food would have to be better than nothing.

The doors split with a pneumatic whoosh, sunlight spilling in from Red’s panoramic windshield and casting the cockpit in a warm glow. He found Lance at the front control panel, or rather in it—the top half of his body had been swallowed up by a gaping hole left by a removed panel, one leg kicked up in the air while the other anchored him by the tips of his toes on the floor.

At the doors’ parting, he aired a heavy groan. “Great, what’d—” A  _ bang! _ resounded through the panel as he moved to stand, and he shouted another miserable curse. “ _ Shit _ ! God fucking—” His hands went to the lip of it, and he managed to extract himself without incident this time, rubbing the back of his head tenderly as he spun on his heel. Eyes catching Keith’s, his expression went from murderous to nonplussed. “Keith?”

“Hey.” Lance’s cheeks were ruddy—likely from hanging upside down, but Keith’s own started to heat at the sight. Lance quirked a brow. “Oh, uh—” he hoisted up the basket “—Kavo.”  _ Words, Keith; fucking use them! _ “She didn’t know if you ate, so I…” His eyes went to the opened panel behind Lance, hoping that it would ease the clench in his jaw. It didn’t do much.

“Oh. ‘S nice of her. She didn’t have to, though.” He turned back, dipping a hand in the panel and fishing out a tangle of wires.

He stepped forward. “Did you?”

Lance shrugged. “Not yet. I wanted to get a few repairs done before they slipped the ol’—” he tapped his temple twice “—y’know? I didn’t realise how much shit goes into flying, like the coolant readings? I hadn’t even thought to hook ‘em up before, and now I’m trying but I keep, like—the displays keep messing up every time I try to fix it, and now the door—” He shook his head. “Never mind. Forgot the door was you.”

Keith set the basket down on the pilot’s chair, continuing on without it. “Sounds… complicated.”

Lance jerked his head up in indication. “ _ She’s _ helping me figure it out, but neither of us really knows what the fuck we’re doing so it’s… slow-going.” He almost hissed the last word, like it was another expletive.

He leaned back on the dashboard by Lance’s side, watching his long fingers work deftly at untangling the wires. “That’s okay. We’re not in a rush.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean? We’ve been gone for almost two months—the Coalition’s been waiting for us this whole time!”

“Waiting..? They haven’t been sitting on their thumbs; the war didn’t pause itself just for us.”

Lance grimaced. “Don’t remind me. Keith, our assembly?” He elaborated. “My guess is Voltron didn’t just  _ send _ another delegate in my place after they lost a lion.”

Keith pursed his lips. Right, the meeting—was there even one? He’d never bothered to ask Kolivan, but were it real, it obviously wasn’t important enough for either the Blades or Voltron to attend on its own merit, no value to them but as the pretense for Keith’s bungled espionage.

“Don’t worry about the meeting,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand. “It probably wasn’t anything important.”

Lance snorted. “Yeah, sure, Kolivan of everyone decided to pull me off the front line last-minute so we could attend a  _ budget meeting _ .” A spark jumped out from the wires he struck together, and he dropped them with a shout.

“ _ Lance _ .” Keith latched onto Lance’s wrists, yanking them out of the air. Lance finally looked back to him, blinking away a moment of shock—Keith was a bit surprised that he’d done it too, if he were to admit it. But there was no going back, so he committed, sliding down to grip Lance’s hands, thumbs smoothing down the backs of his knuckles. “You’re going to kill yourself over it, at this rate.”

He heaved a sigh, eyes dropping to their hands. “We’ve already been gone too long.”

“So what’s another day or two?”

He met Keith’s gaze again, conviction written across his face. “Every day we’re stuck here is another that—” he froze, like the next word was stuck halfway out.

“That  _ what _ ?” Keith prompted.  _ What won’t you tell me? _ But Lance’s mouth had clamped shut. Keith frowned, taking a step closer with a pull on Lance’s hands that made him do the same. “We have a duty to the universe, but that duty extends to  _ this _ planet, too.”

From this close, he could see how the muscles in Lance’s jaw jumped, feel the breath he took to will them to relax.

“What if we stayed?” Keith knew it was stupid to even bring it up, but again: what’s done is done. An almost childlike wonder took over Lance’s face, tipping the scale against the scars and frown lines marring his expression until Keith could almost believe the reality that he was only seventeen. It willed Keith to elaborate. “We use the breach, fly high enough to send our distress signal, but we stay here as long as it takes for help to reach us. We don’t have to be ready to make the flight home, just make it far enough to get the message out to Voltron.”

Lance’s expression crumpled, and he shook his head. “It won’t work,” his voice had practically become a murmur, drawing Keith in closer.

His brow furrowed. “Why not?” Lance shut his eyes, drawing in a sharp breath. “Lance,  _ please _ .”

He dropped one of Lance’s hands to instead cup the side of his face. It dawned on him that he’d followed through with the impulse, about a heartbeat before it did that Lance didn’t pull away, his breath coming out with a shudder as he finally met Keith’s gaze. He’d hardly knew he  _ expected _ Lance to do so until that moment, Lance’s sunken eyes staring back when by all means they should’ve torn away from him by now.

Vulnerability cracked through the mask of Lance’s carefully constructed impassivity, but the resignment in his eyes betrayed the fact that he was worn down, ready to yield. Keith felt it like a stab in his gut, seeing Lance so weary, so tired from it all. He wished more than anything else, once again, to be his safehouse.

He leaned in, orienting himself by the hand on Lance’s face as his eyes slipped shut.

He stumbled forward into empty space, suddenly bereft of Lance’s touch. His eyes fluttered open, Lance now two steps back from him, hands held close to his chest, expression aghast.

Then it shifted into anger.

“What the  _ fuck _ , Keith?” He spat, standing up straighter, taking another step back from Keith— _ away _ from him.

Keith’s stomach fell through the floor. His jaw worked, mouth opened to speak, but the words weren’t quick to follow. “I-I—”

“What  _ was _ that?” He interrupted, clearly not finished. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m sorry, I…”  _ Thought you wanted me _ , he didn’t say—wished he hadn’t even thought. His voice cracked, but he was not going to cry. He vowed it, screwing up his courage and swallowing down that rejection to deal with at a later date.

“You can’t  _ kiss me _ ,” Lance declared, holding his hands out in front of him, as if to ward Keith off.

Keith’s brain snagged on his word choice a moment.  _ Can’t _ ? “Calm  _ down _ , Lance—”

“Calm—?” Lance sputtered indignantly, running a hand through his hair. “You  _ left _ ! I stood by you, and you fucking left me all alone so you could go fuck around with the Blades—and now, what?” He threw his arms out in the emphatic facsimile of a shrug. “You want to just pretend like none of that ever happened?!”

Keith’s brow furrowed. What was Lance  _ talking about _ , ‘alone’? He left the team, not Lance—and where was all of this coming from?

“You need to go.” He pointed at the exit.

“Lance, let me—”

“Just get out, Keith!” He bellowed, staring him down.

It stunned him, froze him in place in that moment, heart leaping into his throat. He swallowed it down, dropping his eyes to the floor, and when his feet finally unstuck from the floor, got the fuck out of dodge.

* * *

In a rare instance of good luck, Kavo wasn’t home when Keith came back. He softly shut the bedroom door shut behind him, as though anything more could summon her when he wanted nothing more than to just be alone. He rounded the bed to his side and sat on the edge, pulling off his boots and tossing them aside, each thunking once off the wall before him.

His jaw tightened, failing to steady the quiver of his lip. He doubled over, hiding his face in his hands as a sob slipped out, tears finally permitted to fall.

How could he have been such an  _ idiot _ , deluding himself into thinking that Lance could ever love him? The look on Lance’s face said enough: he  _ hated _ Keith now, probably never stopped hating him in the first place. Keith just  _ couldn’t _ do anything right by Lance; everything about him, from being in fighter class, dropping out, saving Shiro, taking Black Paladin—hell, even his stupid hair!—only served to make Lance hate him more.

Keith was just unfortunate enough to fall in love with the one guy who despised his guts, and desperate enough to think Lance acting civil when he was the only other human nearby meant he felt it too.

He hugged his arms around his middle, curling in on himself as he screwed his eyes shut.

And now he’d gone and fucked that up too. How could he think that kissing Lance was at all a good idea? Like he could catch him by surprise, do it when the timing was right, and force Lance to feel the same way about him. He felt like a child, fooled by the fantasy of a true love’s first kiss that would bend reality to his will.

After all, he more than anyone else should know that loving someone— _ wanting _ someone—would always result in them leaving you. Without fail.

He took a deep, shaky breath, sitting himself upright again. His hands carded through his hair, brushing back the locks now stuck to the moisture collecting on his face.  _ You know the drill _ , he told himself.  _ It happened with dad. It happened with Shiro. It happened with mom, and now Lance _ .

His hands rubbed against his arms, goosebumps prickling up on his bare skin. He felt cold, among many other things. But at least that, he could do something about. He pulled back the covers, then wrapped them around his shoulders, shifting beneath them to lie on his side—never mind that it was still midday, the sun high and bright in the sky, spilling its generous light in through the window he faced.

He pulled the blankets over his head for good measure.

He had no idea how long it was before he heard the distant rumble from the front entrance. From their footfalls as they came down the hallway a half a minute later, though, he determined—to his relief—that it was Kavo. He held in a disappointed sigh though when the sound halted in front of his room, and his door slid open.

“Hello?” She murmured.

Keith steeled himself, then pushed back the covers, propping himself up on an elbow and turning to give her a faint smile. “Hey, Kavo.”

The light spilled in at a low angle from his window now, and he saw her mostly from the light coming in from behind her. She leaned in from the hall, two hands anchoring her on the doorway. Her brow pushed her three eyes into a sympathetic squint, and Keith reasoned he probably didn’t look terribly hot at the moment. He cut her off at the pass before she could voice her concern.

“I think I ate something.” He felt a pang of guilt in his ribcage, putting the blame of his current state on her.

She blinked, standing a little straighter. “Oh. Oh mercy, that’s unfortunate.”

Keith shrugged, a hiccough escaping that he then tried to pass off as a laugh, likely unsuccessfully. “I’m just going to try and sleep it off.” He lowered himself back down, turning away from her.

She stood in the doorway a few silent seconds more, then said, “I’ll be dining now, if you would wish to join—”

“Don’t think that’s a good idea.” Distantly, he recognised that his stomach did feel empty. It was less of a hunger, though. More like a sick feeling. He curled himself up, another wave of self-pity hitting him. “Thanks, though,” he breathed out.

She lingered a heartbeat more, then departed without another word, her silhouette on the wall slipping away as she shut the door. The house was eerily silent when Kavo sat alone for dinner, so much so that Keith could hear practically every tiny noise—each creak of the house, scrape of a dish, shuffled step. But the loudest of it all, perhaps, was the silence of the front door. The absence of their third resident. Keith watched the sun dip outside inch by inch, light petering out as the evening ticked away before yielding to the darkness of the starless night.

Keith was worn out by his emotions, energy expended in every last cell of his body. Despite that, he drifted on the brink of consciousness until dawn, jolting awake at the tiniest noise. But not once did footsteps echo down the hall, nor their bedroom door slide open, nor the bed beside him dip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every scene where I make Keith cry is dedicated to my water sign friends. Keith’s just honouring his Scorpio heritage let him cry over it he’ll be fine he needs to. Meanwhile Lance and I are in Fire Sign Territory which means we have to repress our sadness and mask it as anger. Also ADHD culture is repressing your strong emotional responses to your own emotional detriment. Lance and I are just honouring our heritages too fuck!!!!!
> 
> So like class discussion time but like hears the scoupe: I have to rewrite a big chunk of the next chapter because the existing draft??? It sucks. I had to remove myself from it for a while so I could look at it with a fresh pair of face orbs so like… that’s what I’m burdened with now….. Given that, the next chapter might take a little bit longer to come out (hopefully about a month.) In the interim, I hope to publish at least one or two more smut oneshots? And hopefully get my ass in gear and post a couple of drabbles I wrote up on my Tumblr a while back for an ask game.
> 
> But holy fuck y’all, we just have the last chapter and the epilogue to go??? (Which are both coming out next update because that’s how I do it) Holy shit??? Thanks so much for sticking with the story ‘til now, and I hope u find the ending rewarding!!!!!!!
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please kudo, comment, rec, and/or [reblog on Tumblr!](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/188620257121/left-as-in-gone-chapter-1/)
> 
>  
> 
> **Chapter preview:**
> 
>  
> 
> “It matters because it matters to me! Because _you_ matter to me.” A queasy feeling settled dangerously high in Keith’s throat as he admitted it. “And trust me, I hate that more than anyone. I get that you don’t love me—”
> 
> “You’re a real _fucking_ idiot,” he snapped, turning his glare back on Keith, “you know that?!”
> 
> Keith bristled, throwing his hands out to the sides. “Alright fine, I’m an idiot! Because I can’t _read your mind_ , Lance—so why don’t you try fucking telling me something for a change?!”


	11. Querencia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Querencia (Spanish) - The area in a bullring where the bull makes its stand.
> 
> Keith decides he’s had enough with secrecy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *is already crying* oh hey there party people welcome to the end of the fic. Well, not exactly the end; we still got the epilogue. But yeah.
> 
> Yeah.
> 
> I gotta say thank you first to Max and Selin for helping beta this chapter! Thanks for not judging me u guys smonche
> 
> And thanks to everyone who’s been a part of this story with me! If you’ve commented, talked with me about it, or even just read it, have been here since the start or just picked it up tonight, thanks so much for reading the story and getting all the way to the end with me <3 It means so much to me that I can share this experience with you, and I hope you enjoy how it concludes!
> 
> On that note, let’s get back into this story!!! Last time u left off everyone was upset, now let’s see how they feel the next day!!!!!!!

Last night, Keith had been heartbroken. But now? He was fucking incensed.

Deciding that, he untangled himself from his mess of bedsheets, yanked his boots on, then threw open his bedroom door (repeating that final action when it bounced off its frame, ricocheting right back before he could pass through). He dragged a hand through his greasy hair as he marched single-mindedly through the hallway, past where Kavo sat at the table for breakfast, swiping an indiscriminate handful of food off the table as he did so, not slowing his roll one bit.

“I’ll be back,” was the only explanation he cared to offer, then he pushed through the front door, slamming it shut behind him.

An early morning chill hit his face as he stepped out, the skin of his bare arms prickling up from the sensation. With a glance he spared towards the community proper, as he spilled out a mouthful of the breakfast he’d pilfered, he saw a very few others milling about in the sunlight creeping up over the horizon, starting their day this early. Carts wheeled inward toward the central square, the market preparing to open for business before most others would be awake. He turned straight ahead, shoved the rest of the food in his mouth, and ground it between his molars.

It was a good thing that Red’s entry ramp was still open-access when he got there—he’d half expected Lance to have snapped it shut, since he was so  _ insistent _ on acting like this. Still, had it not been, Keith told himself he would’ve pried it open with his bare fucking hands, bum shoulder be damned.

He pushed on ahead, his footfalls echoing through the lion’s metal corridor, carrying him straight towards the cockpit. He hedged his bets that Lance would still be in there, and if he weren’t, Keith figured he would simply use Red’s surveillance cameras to find the bastard.

He nearly smacked face-first into the door when he reached it, his hand shooting out to catch himself a mere breath away. He hesitated another moment, waiting for them to split before him, then he furrowed his brow, his hand curling into a fist as he drew it back, bringing it down on the door thrice..

“Hey asshole!” he called. No response. He pounded on the door anew, incessant now despite the growing ache in his fist. “I know you’re in there!”

He traded off for the toe of his boot, the sound reverberating far better—albeit less frequently, despite his best efforts at maintaining his rhythm. It didn’t take long to outlast Lance though; after about five more kicks, the doors slid open. Lance stood on the other side, barring Keith’s entrance with a fold of his arms and a huff, the bags under his eyes emphasising his already dark expression.

“What,” he spat out.

But Keith wasn’t about to be intimidated, certainly not by the likes of Lance’s scrawny ass. He pushed past him, marching towards the controls to give himself strategic advantage away from the door. “You’re ridiculous.”

“What the hell did  _ I _ do?!” Lance’s voice—along with the clomp of his footfalls—drew closer, irritation resounding through them both.

“You’re acting so immature over this!” Keith whirled on his heel to shoot Lance a glare, then threw an arm out to his side, gesturing with it wildly as he continued, “Hiding away in your lion, moping here all by yourself—hell, if anyone’s got the right to be doing that right now, it’s me!”

“Oh,  _ right _ ,” Lance scoffed, leaning against his pilot’s chair, “I forgot you had a fucking  _ patent _ on being broody.”

Keith growled in frustration, wiping the hand down his face. “Not my point, Lance!  _ You _ were the one who didn’t come home last night—you think  _ Kavo _ didn’t notice?”

Lance’s lip twitched, a sneer that he tamped down before it could surface. “I’m trying to deal with this—”

“No one’s stopping you! Kavo’s been taking care of us since the day we crashed, and—and she hardly even  _ sees _ you anymore!” Lance’s face hardened as he listened; it tore an ache through Keith’s chest, that Lance didn’t try to interrupt him, didn’t even deign to react. “You just roll out of bed without saying anything, and you don’t come back all day, and now, what? You don’t even fucking  _ show up _ ? Be mad at me all you want, but  _ she _ doesn’t deserve that.”

“Well, what do you want from me, Keith?”

“I want you to fucking grow up! Stop expecting people to understand when you don’t bother to tell them what’s going on—and while you’re at it, stop punishing the people around you for your own goddamn problems!”

Lance’s eyes widened. “ _ My _ problems?”

Keith stammered impatiently. “Our problems, whatever! Not hers, so you could have the decency to fucking  _ act _ like it.”

Lance huffed, the angry creases of his brow smoothing out ever so slightly. “Alright. You know what? If you want to pretend that everything’s fine—great. Let’s just forget this whole thing ever happened.” He threw up his hands in surrender, making to turn away from Keith.

And that should’ve been all Keith could ask for, but… “No.” Lance froze, cocking a brow at him. “No, that’s not what I’m saying—that’s  _ not _ what I want. I know I fucked up, okay? And you don’t feel the same way back, but I don’t regret telling you how I feel.”

“You’re making this  _ complicated _ ,” Lance groaned, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s not complicated,” he reasoned, “it’s reality—and  _ I’m _ just trying to face it. I thought you of everyone would understand that.”

He leaned his head back on the headrest, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “What does it even  _ matter _ at this point?”

“It matters to me!  _ You _ matter to me.” A queasy feeling settled dangerously high in his throat as he admitted it, and he balled his hands into fists at his sides to combat it. “And trust me, I hate that more than anyone else—but I can’t move on if I keep pretending that you don’t. I get that you don’t love me—”

“You’re a real  _ fucking _ idiot,” he snapped, picking up his head to glare back at Keith, “you know that?!”

Keith bristled, throwing his hands out to his sides. “Alright fine, I’m an idiot! Because I can’t  _ read your mind _ , Lance—so why don’t you try fucking telling me something for a change?!”

“I was  _ in love with you _ , Keith!”

The confession rang off the hollowed metal of the cockpit. Keith’s hands dropped to his sides, watching the million angry creases in Lance’s face smooth out ever so slightly, lines shifting now to draw a wince. In the stunned silence that followed, Keith realised just how heavily his chest heaved—how Lance’s did too, this being their first real chance to catch their breaths.

Then, Lance’s sharp inhale filled the void around them, and he continued, “I was in love with you, and you didn’t even notice.”

“I-I…” Half-formed responses birthed and died on his tongue, his mind cycling through a million reactions as he struggled to process what Lance had just said. “How was I supposed to know? Why—why didn’t you  _ say _ anything?”

“Would it have made a difference?” His expression hardened again, arms folding over his chest as he sunk further against his chair. “You wouldn’t have stayed no matter what I said, so why even bother? What was your plan after  _ this _ , Keith? After your little fantasy of us saving the planet panned out. To go back to the Blades and drop off from all contact with Voltron  _ again _ ?”

He had to admit, he hadn’t given much thought to what he’d do  _ after _ kissing Lance—not in terms of their relationship, anyhow. “The secrecy policy is Kolivan’s, not mine. I don’t get to choose—”

Lance growled. “You’re missing the point!”

“What, going back to the Blades, then? Where else am I supposed to go?”

“ _ Voltron _ ,” he declared, as if it were self-evident.

Keith bore his teeth. “I’m not about to sit on the sidelines and play house with you when there’s a war going on—”

“You won’t be sitting on the sidelines—”

“Well I’m not going to be in a lion! Red chose  _ you _ , Lance, and it’s about time you accepted her choice!”

“And what about you?” Lance let out a hand to gesture to him. “Because Black chose you too, and what did  _ you _ do about it?!”

Keith outright laughed at that, cold and abrasive. “I’m  _ not _ the Black Paladin.”

“Yes, you—”

“I’m not!” He snapped, practically bellowed, loud enough to make Lance flinch. “Black needed me until we found Shiro—because  _ Shiro _ said he wanted me as his backup. But now he’s back, and…” His righteous anger lost its steam, but he puffed out his chest enough to finish his sentence. “And you said it yourself: six is one too many.”

Lance shook his head, his voice suddenly very small. “I didn’t mean you, Keith.”

“You didn’t,” he ceded, “but it’s true. I’m not a leader, not like Shiro. I couldn’t handle the pressure, couldn’t make the decisions he does—I relied on the team for  _ everything _ .”

“But that’s why we’re a team! We’re supposed to support you—and leaders are  _ supposed _ to listen to their team.”

“And you already have one: Shiro!”

“But we don’t! Shiro’s…” And again, Lance froze in that same way he’d done countless times on Antya—he yanked the brakes, statement jerking to a halt. But this time, he furrowed his brow with resolve, and pushed through. “He won’t listen anymore. And it’s not just with me: Pidge and Hunk too, and the princess, and Coran, he’s…” He shook his head again, eyes dropping to the floor as he failed to find the words to say.

But the pieces started to fall into place for Keith. The Coalition, Kolivan’s suspicions… “Is that why Voltron has been so messy?”

Lance looked back to him, his shoulders sagging. “Is it that obvious?”

Keith swallowed, squaring himself to Lance. “It’s why I’m here.” Lance frowned, betraying his confusion. Trying to wring the intel out of Lance clearly hadn’t worked, so what did Keith have to lose by trying honesty? “Kolivan’s worried, so he wanted me to spy on you at the conference—figure out what was happening with the team.”

“He’s  _ worried _ ?” Lance asked. Keith nodded, both of them knowing that didn’t mean Kolivan’s heart was bleeding for Voltron. “Is he planning a coup?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed. “But the Blades aren’t the only ones—the whole Coalition is getting suspicious, and if Voltron doesn’t get its shit together soon, we’re probably going to have a situation on our hands.”

“That  _ can’t _ happen,” Lance insisted. “We can barely keep up as it is; if the Coalition fractures, we don’t stand a chance.”

“I know— _ fuck _ , Lance, and I’m trying my best. But then I need to understand what’s going on.”

“Shiro’s…” He fought through the reflex to bite his tongue once more, face pursed with the effort, “he’s acting  _ weird _ . He decides on things without telling us, putting us in dangerous situations that aren’t worth it, and… he’s just  _ not been himself _ . I-I don’t know how else to explain it.”

Keith scrutinised the earnesty in Lance’s eyes. He’d felt a difference in Shiro since his return to the team, too—blamed it on the tension born from usurping what they’d all known to be Shiro’s rightful place. But if all of this was still happening even  _ after _ Keith’s departure…

“I know something’s going on with him,” Lance continued. “But he won’t talk to me about it. I’ve tried, because I’m supposed to be his right hand, but it’s just… not  _ right _ .” He paused a moment to scrub his hand frustratedly in his hair. “It feels wrong. The bond between the Red and Black Paladins is supposed to be the strongest on the team—and I felt it, when you were Black Paladin. But with him, it  _ hurts _ ,” Lance’s voice wavered around that last word, and he grabbed a fistful of shirt against his chest, “and Red feels it too—there’s something standing between us and them, and we—we can’t get through.”

“And because I was his Red Paladin the first time,” Keith pieced it together, “you want me to talk to him?”

“Your his  _ brother _ ,” Lance told him. “If you can’t get him to listen, no one can.”

Keith bit his lip—Shiro was always the one talking Keith down, the cooler head between the two. What would Keith even say that hadn’t occurred to him already? “And if I can’t?”

Lance didn’t hesitate. “Then you have to take Black Paladin from him.”

Keith practically started. “Lance—”

“No—listen to me,” he cut in decisively. “Allura said it at the start: the Red Paladin has to rely on their instinct, no matter what. And my gut is telling me that this isn’t right; I’m not Shiro’s Red Paladin, I’m  _ yours _ . We’re meant to be together, Keith, and it doesn’t matter if it doesn’t make sense because I  _ feel _ it. So if you say I’m supposed to be in Red, that means you’re supposed to be in Black too.”

And again, it was like Lance was pulling Keith’s own thoughts out of his mind, words finding passage out of the wrong mouth but into the air between them all the same, out of their hiding place, finally spoken into reality.  _ We’re meant to be together _ . And with it, Keith couldn’t find his own words to say.

A beat passed in silence, broken when Lance’s sneakers scuffed against the floor. He sidestepped the pilot’s chair before dropping heavily into it, muttering something distinctly Spanish under his breath, though Keith couldn’t hope to catch it, let alone understand. He leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees, gaze pasted to the hands he clasped together before himself.

“We can’t call the Coalition to Antya,” Lance repeated, then at long last elaborated, “Voltron will hear the transmission, then Shiro’ll tip off Lotor—and he  _ can’t _ know that we know.”

Keith sighed, his hands going to his hips. “And you’re sure it’s Lotor that’s responsible for this?”

“Positive.” He punctuated it by wringing his hands. “Torturing a civilisation into submission, prolonging their suffering? It’s his signature move.”

That word, ‘suffering,’ it sat uneasy with Keith. There was no doubt in his mind that what was happening on Antya was cruel, but for him, it glossed over the nuance of all the lives he’d been a part of for this past month and change. Because for as much as Antyans suffered, they still danced, and laughed, and loved. Surely, that had to matter for something—clearly, it mattered enough to them that they kept on going.

“Then we can’t go back to Voltron,” was Keith’s logical conclusion. “Because we’re not going to leave Antya to suffer, not when we have the means to help them.”

Lance finally fixed his gaze back on Keith, indeed very severe. “I’m not defecting. I won’t turn my back on my team—my  _ family _ , no matter what. If the choice is between Antya and the integrity of the Coalition, Keith…”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Keith shook his head. He knew there was a solution where everyone ended up okay—there  _ had _ to be. “We can… if we go to the Blades, I can talk with Kolivan, and he’ll—we can’t broadcast important intel anyway, so there’s no chance of Lotor catching wind. And if Kolivan really  _ is _ planning something, then maybe this is our chance to get him back on Voltron’s side, if you tell him what’s going on.”

“Or maybe it’ll be the reason he needs to turn the Blades on Voltron once and for all,” Lance argued. “That’s a big risk you’re asking me to take.”

Keith sighed. “I know.” He wasn’t going to argue otherwise—he couldn’t lie to Lance, not anymore. Because this was Lance’s test, as much as it was Keith’s. If Lance really was his right hand, like he said, then it meant he had to trust Keith. If Keith really was his leader, it meant he had to earn that trust.

“Do you think you can convince him?” Lance asked.

“No idea,” Keith, again, confessed. “But I know you can.”

Again, Lance’s hands flexed. Then, he jerked his head in a nod. “Alright, I’m in.”

It should’ve felt like a weight lifting off his shoulders. Instead, it felt like his insides were calcifying. “When can we be ready to fly?”

Lance pushed to his feet with a groan. “We’re ready to go right now. Been ready for days.”

Keith’s jaw tightened. “ _ Days _ ? And you didn’t think to tell me?”

Lance’s shoulders snapped taught. “You didn’t tell me anything  _ either _ , Keith.”

But then he felt it—a flash of emotion, there like a lightning bolt and gone just as fast. Empathy. Guilt. He knew it intimately, fresh in his mind from the last time he’d been hit with such a pang: yesterday, at the market, thinking of the planet he was about to leave behind to fend for itself.

Maybe Lance had trouble letting go, too.

And with it, the anger seeped out of his muscles. “No sense waiting, then.”

* * *

“I feel like a fool.” Kavo gave an embarrassed laugh, wiping her tears with one hand as two others fussed with her clothing, straightening out creases that didn’t exist—apparently, crying was another thread of commonality across the universe. “I simply didn’t expect you to leave so suddenly.”

“We didn’t expect it either,” Lance consoled with a comforting hand on her shoulder, giving her a sympathetic smile.

Keith was glad that he didn’t have to do this alone; he’d never been good at comforting others (and though he’d deny it to his grave, he had a nasty habit of crying himself when he saw others in tears.) It was good to have someone who could make up for his shortcomings, so he could hang onto the scene playing out at Kavo’s front door from a few paces removed, clenching his jaw to prevent his own eyes from watering.

Lance reached into his pocket with his other hand. “I want you to have something.” He pulled out a communicator, holding it out to her.

Her eyes went wide, and she pushed it away. “I cannot accept! I should be the one sending  _ you _ off with gifts, but—”

“No,  _ no _ ,” Lance chuckled, prying open her one free hand and pressing it into the palm. “It’s not a gift; it’s something you can use to call me, when we sort out the comms issue. No matter where I am, if you need anything—” He tapped a finger on the screen “—I’ll hear it.”

She lowered her gaze to the communicator, furrowed it in question, then turned it back on Lance. Keith took a step forward, figuring he’d save her. “Our friends will teach you how to use it when they get here. I’m sure the Queen will be grateful to have you as her ambassador when the Blades arrive.”

“We will too,” Lance chipped in, curling her fingers around the communicator, then pulling away. “The Blades are great, but they’re a bit of an awkward bunch. If you can handle  _ Keith _ , though, you can handle anyone.” Keith sent him a flat look, but Kavo gave a hearty laugh.

“Right,” he breathed out, then turned to address Lance. “Are we all set then?”

Lance spared him a glance, his smile faltering, turning bittersweet. Then, he gathered Kavo up into a hug. Kavo’s reciprocation was a bit awkward—given the bulk of Lance’s armour, the arm ratio, their height differential, and the fact that Antyans didn’t hug—but that awkwardness was only matched by her enthusiasm.

Then Lance finally relinquished her, and took a step back. He turned to Keith, breathed out, “I’ll go get things started,” and turned away with the ease of someone who’s had too much practice with this sort of goodbye.

Keith then stepped up for his inevitable turn—braced himself for it, almost. She spared little time enveloping him in a fierce embrace, and it got just the slightest bit harder to pretend his eyes were dry. It was a long moment before Keith—who was never good with goodbyes in the first place—forced himself to pull away, heart all too heavy to get a word out.

Then they shared a look, one final look, and he decided he’d have to give it a try.

“Promise me you’ll tell her,” he murmured.

A sort of fear crept across her face, a fear he recognised—after all, he’d been carrying around himself since god knows when. “I-I… I don’t—”

“I know,” he interrupted. “It’s a risk, and it can end badly. But it doesn’t matter how it ends; you’ve earned the right to give yourself a shot, Kavo.”

She sighed, but gave him a resigned smile. “I can do my best.”

“Can’t do worse than me.” Keith smirked, then took a step back. Another. “When you do, make sure you get in touch—or I’ll come back here and tell her myself.”

She didn’t answer, her smile growing just wide enough to jostle the tears collecting under her eyes, spilling them down her cheeks. When Keith worried that his were liable to do the same, he turned on his heel, picking up the pace towards Red’s entry ramp.

From the windshield, he could see her wave them off from the ground as Lance fired Red up, then in an instant she disappeared into a blur of green.

The cabin was silent as they ascended through the atmosphere, Lance having done good on his repairs to Red and keeping her functions down to a low thrum. Keith was satisfied to maintain that silence, hovering over Lance’s shoulder, feet thankfully planted firmly as Red’s artificial gravity held him fast.

The air between them might’ve been thick with uncertainty, weighed down by confessions and hurt feelings, but if nothing else Keith was going to try listening to Kolivan’s advice for the first time: ‘Put the mission before any feelings you might still have for your Voltron teammates.’

That silence was broken as they breached through the atmosphere, escaping through the hole they’d torn in the barrier upon entrance. All at once, Red’s dashboard lit up with warnings, status alerts, and notifications of transmissions missed over the course of their impromptu vacation. Lance sighed, lifting a finger to scroll through the transmission log.

“Focus on flying.” Keith stepped up, batting his hand away in transit towards that particular hologram projection. “I’ll worry about those.”

Lance clicked his tongue. “It’s fine.”

“It  _ wasn’t _ the last time we went through this. The barrier’s still camouflaged,” he added, before this could become the fight he knew they were both tensing for, “so just let me handle the rest.”

In the reflection of the screen, he saw Lance relinquish, reluctantly dropping back into his chair as his gaze fixed ahead. “Call the castle first. They need to know that they didn’t lose a lion.”

Keith nodded, swiping at a transmission they received from that location and hitting the Altean equivalent to ‘Redial.’

The call went through, albeit opening to an empty control room. Keith furrowed his brow, staring at it for a beat, before glancing to his pilot to check if he was seeing the same thing. The expression Lance returned confirmed that. Then the speakers rumbled with a familiar snore, and Lance’s eyes lit up in recognition.

“Oh— _ Coran _ ,” Lance explained, then turned to the screen and called, “Coran!”

In a blur of orange, Coran jolted up into frame, the hair on his head and upper lip standing on end as testament of his newly-disturbed slumber. He stared back at them, dumbfounded, quickly rubbing his eyes before giving his double-take. Then, his face burst into an elated smile. “Lance, Keith! By the ancients, it really  _ is _ you, isn’t it?”

It tugged on Keith’s heart, and he bit his lip to save himself from a smile that would’ve made his cheeks sore, made him ache as he’d asked himself just how long it had been since he’d seen Coran—like,  _ actually _ seen him, not just caught a glimpse of him in the background as Kolivan discussed missions with the paladins.

“As we live and breathe,” was Lance’s clipped reply, his focus still trained on the path out of danger. “Sorry if we woke you up.”

“Nonsense, boy.” Coran puffed his chest, reaching to twirl his moustache, only to find that it eluded his grasp, pointing up at an unnatural angle. He gave a culpable smile, quickly fussing to straighten himself out. “Ah, well… perhaps your timing was, er,  _ untimely _ —catching me in the middle of a very brief power nap! But we’ve had twenty-varga watch on the comms, in the event you two showed back up! Do you have any idea how long you’ve been away?”

“A month?” Keith suggested.

Lance jabbed him with an elbow. “A  _ dobash _ ,” he corrected, then faltered, “Or, no wait—”

“Over two  _ phoebs _ , number three.” He shook his head. “Might I say it’s still a shock to see you both alright—and after so long! Why, when you left, the team was placing bets on how long it would take until you tore each other to shreds!” Keith assumed that was hyperbole, but you never really knew with Coran—still, he couldn’t say he’d been too far off the mark, one way or the other.

Lance laughed, unfazed. “We had a few close calls,” he echoed Keith’s thoughts. “I’m not going to lie.”

Lance and Coran turned to the topic of Voltron, their voices fading into background chatter as Keith scrolled through two phoebs of backlogged calls, repeated transmissions from the castle, from individual lions, various Coalition contacts in the sector, and… Keith’s finger stalled over one transmission. It took him just a second longer to recall the coordinates, unfamiliar to him as he’d rarely seen them in the ‘incoming’ column.

“H-hey, Coran?” Lance interrupted the other mid-signature-ramble. Keith turned to Lance, whose eyes were trained on Keith’s hovering hand one moment longer before snapping back to the screen ahead. “Why don’t we hold off ‘til morning to call in the team? I’ll be back in a quintant anyway, and Keith’s got some business with the Blade of Marmora we’ve got to handle.”

Coran frowned. “Are you sure, Lance? The team will be overjoyed to hear from you.”

He waved it off. “Ehh, I’m sure they could use the rest. Plus, it means you can go back to bed—”

“Say no more.” Coran pushed to stand, getting halfway upright before jolting to a stop, hands flying to grasp at his rear end as he winced. “ _ Ooh _ —the late night shifts have not been kind to my old  _ Flerngil _ injury. Did I ever tell you two how I got that one?”

Keith and Lance exchanged a look, the latter speaking up, “Uh, maybe later.”

Coran shrugged, then stretched to his full height, a loud  _ crack! _ bursting through the speakers before the wrinkles on his expression resolved. “Perhaps you’re right; it’s not the sort of tale you can  _ abridge _ , after all.”

Keith fought down the grimace on his face, trying to ignore the ache of a reminder in his bad shoulder and the queasy feeling it stirred in his gut. “Can’t… wait to hear it.”

“Sweet dreams, Coran,” Lance bid as he hung up, reaching across Keith to dial the unnamed coordinates before Keith could even react.

“Hey, what—”

“My team knows I’m alive,” Lance told him, “it’s only fair that yours does too.” Then the screen opened to the Marmora base, and Lance straightened, pasting on his signature grin.

Kolivan stood front and centre on the screen, a far sight more alert than Coran had been—eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. “Keith…” He set his jaw, remedying his momentary shock. “We’ve been unable to contact you.”

“There were complications,” Keith fell immediately back into his Blade conditioning, his response short and to-the-point, “but we’re on our way back, double-time.”

Kolivan’s brow twitched in intrigue—and Keith suspected it had to do with the plural ‘we.’ But true to his own rule, he didn’t question Keith over transmission. Footsteps drew nearer on the other end, and Kolivan sidestepped to allow Krolia to squeeze into the frame at his side.

“Keith,” she breathed, her shoulders sagging after only a moment of studying him. “You’re alright.”

The elation in her eyes struck a nerve in him, hands clenching at his sides. He responded with a curt nod. “You made it back from your mission, I see.”

“Recently,” Kolivan replied in her stead. Keith was grateful for an excuse to look away from his mother, the guilt he felt at his anger towards her reaction serving only to compound the latter.

“Kolivan told me you’ve been out of contact since you left,” she continued. “I’m glad to see you’re alright.”

Lance spoke up next—thankfully, given that Keith’s jaw felt fused shut, currently preoccupied with grinding his teeth. “With this guy? Nah, you’ve got nothing to worry about—I mean, if he can survive holing himself up in a desert shack for a year, he can handle anything space is going to throw at him.” Krolia’s gaze slid towards him, seeming to notice his presence for the very first time. Lance brandished a hand to his chestplate, and Keith could swear he saw his lashes flutter coyly in his peripheral vision. “Lance McClain, by the way. And you are?”

“Krolia,” Keith stepped in to answer, deciding for her how much (or rather, how little) Lance was going to hear. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Much more,” she answered (and Keith was starting to understand why the Blades never bothered to call—all of this vaguery was starting to boil his blood.) “When you get back, I’ll tell you everything.”

The words stung, the extant injury of a promise unfulfilled. But he accepted it, nonetheless. “Lance and I have a lot to tell you, too.” And Kolivan’s expression shifted, definitely displeased now. “When we get back to the base,” Keith reminded him.

“Right,” Kolivan acquiesced, still wearing that same look of nausea he always did when faced with the prospect of coordinating with allies. Without another word, he dismissed the call.

“Jeez,” Lance trilled his lips, “try to keep it in your pants, you guys.”

“Kolivan will come around,” Keith reassured him. “This is going to work out.”

Lance scoffed, though it had no real bite to it. “Still on about that, huh?”

“You  _ did _ admit I was right,” Keith replied, more upon reflex than deliberation—more of a joke than an argument too, when he thought about it.

Lance’s response was that of a silent beat, drumming his fingers against the controls for its duration. Once it was through, he picked back up in a more earnest tone. “I tell Kolivan…  _ whatever _ , and then what? What happens next?”

“We hope it’s enough to buy us some time to figure out what’s been going on with Shiro.”

“And if it isn’t?”

Keith frowned in thought, out of practice of having to stop and think of his own solutions—remembering that he’d only really done it when Lance had prompted him, when he’d passed on the duties of Red Paladin. “Then we haul ass to Voltron and warn them. Red’s faster than anything else in the universe; there’s no way in hell they get to the castle before we do.”

“You’d double-cross the Blades just like that?” Lance asked.

“I’m not crossing  _ anyone _ ,” Keith corrected. “We’re a coalition, isn’t the point of it that we’re on the same side?”

“Fair enough—you know, this just might work?” Lance laughed. “Who would’ve imagined—out of everyone on team Voltron, the two of  _ us _ are the ones with the fate of the Coalition in our hands?”

Keith couldn’t help but laugh at it too, the irony of their unlikely duo just about ridiculous enough to qualify this mission as the plot of a B-list movie. “Should’ve been Hunk and Pidge.”

“Or Shiro and Pidge.”

“Allura and Shiro?”

“Literally  _ anyone _ other than our dumb asses.” Lance shook his head, and they shared another chuckle over it. “But, you know… I meant it—what I said before. You’re a good leader, Keith.”

“I had a good team,” Keith answered. And he meant it; he couldn’t have done it without them. Further still, he couldn’t do it without them, now. “ _ Have _ a good team.”

Lance straightened, registering the amendment. He then turned in his chair to look up at Keith, gauging his sincerity with a thoughtful silence he displayed so very rarely.

“I don’t know if this means I’m supposed to be in Black,” Keith added, “but I made a promise to Shiro that…” He petered off, Lance’s gaze all of a sudden far too piercing. He remedied it by dragging his own towards the dashboard, brow furrowed in thought. “That I intend to keep,” he rerouted. “And regardless of what happens after that, that means I know where I’m supposed to be: with Voltron.”

“We need you, Keith,” Lance said softly.

And for the first time it didn’t feel like that was a reprimand—it wasn’t a scolding for falling short of the lofty expectations of others: he was simply worthy enough to earn a place. And that was good—because truth be told, Keith thought he might need team Voltron, too.

“Hey, so…” Lance cleared his throat. “Sorry I ruined your first kiss, by the way.”

Two things happened to Keith in that moment, consecutively. First, he was reminded of that particular indiscretion he’d let slip during an ill-fated nighttime conversation all those weeks ago. And second, he was hit by a freight train of embarrassment, realising that Lance still remembered it as well.

He ran a distressed hand through his bangs. “Oh god—just, forget I ever said that; it was stupid.”

“No no, I meant…” Lance pulled his hands from the controls, sitting back in his chair. “I was wondering if you wanted a redo.”

And Keith… blanked at the suggestion. He couldn’t do much else, because Lance wasn’t seriously suggesting—after the shitshow the first try had caused? Keith looked back to him, and Lance returned it with an almost sheepish smile (or at least, as sheepish as someone so cocky as him could manage).

“Just… if you still wanted to.”

“I-I…” stuttered out of Keith’s mouth, gaping open like he were a fish out of water. “ _ Now _ ?” He finally squeezed out.

Lance laughed, and a bit of the tension from his body visibly seeped out with it. “I mean… no time like the present, right?” He pushed to stand, continuing with, “You never know how these missions turn out. One minute, everything’s going fine, then the next…”

“The next?”

He straightened, his expression lightening immediately. “Plus I’m, like, a really good kisser. It’d be a shame if something happened and you never got the chance to experience all of  _ this _ .” He propped an elbow up on his headrest, waggling his eyebrows.

Keith rolled his eyes, scoffing. “Okay, I take it back: I  _ do _ regret telling you how I felt now.”

“Woah, hey! I’ve gotten plenty of satisfied customers—I’ll have you know I got to first base with Zoe McLennan, and that was  _ before _ I got my braces off!”

“Who?”

Lance faltered, prepared to continue his nonsequitur but halted by Keith’s question, his brow furrowing. “Like, tall, dark hair? Keith, she was the  _ hottest girl _ in the engineering school, how do you—? Never mind.” He shook himself.

“So…” Keith licked his lips, trying for the words to steer them back on course. “Can..? I mean, I don’t… don’t think I should try starting things.”

Lance studied him for a moment, then his lips quirked up with amusement. “Yeah, I can take the reins on this.”

Keith’s stomach clenched, but he forced himself not to look away. “Alright.”

Lance moved closer, more a shuffle of his feet than a true step, given how close they already were. His eyes softened as he drew nearer, glowing brilliant in the distant stars casting lights across his face, leaving shadows just as soon. “Relax, buddy. I’m kissing you, not punching you.”

“When it comes to us, I never really know which to expect.” His breath stuttered out of him as Lance leaned closer, thumb landing softly on Keith’s cheek.

“Then I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

It didn’t happen right away. Lance pressed their foreheads together, paused when Keith drew a sharp breath in, waited for him to breathe it out. Then his fingers curled under Keith’s chin, tilting it up as he leaned in, brushing their lips together before…

Keith’s heart swelled, and it took him a moment before he remembered he had to reciprocate—recognised that he didn’t know exactly how, but trusted the guidance of Lance’s tug against his lower lip. Lance broke them apart, only to push back in a moment later, his free hand now pressing against Keith’s hip. Then he did it again, and it sent a thrill up Keith’s spine.

And then Lance pulled away, the warmth of his breath receding from Keith’s lips. Reluctantly, Keith opened his eyes again, caught Lance’s gaze again, read the sadness in it again.

“I missed you,” Lance confessed, soft enough that Keith could barely hear it, so close that Keith couldn’t hope to read it from his lips. But he couldn’t doubt what Lance had said.

And he was sorry. He’d never intended to affirm Lance’s insecurities by acting out on his own. But an apology didn’t seem like enough. He brought his hands to rest on Lance’s chestplate, gaze falling to the armour that prevented their warmth from seeping between them.

“You won’t.” A promise, then. “Not anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THEN……. THEY SMOOCH…..
> 
> But like… also picture me, bathing in this canon divergence I have created for myself. Mmmm.
> 
> So basically here’s a run-down of what happens after the last chapter: they make it to Voltron with the Blades in tow—we kind of attach to the story where canon comes in at Oriande? Or whatever it was called? Where cooler older grizzled Keith shows up, but it’s not cooler older grizzled Keith it’s the same old dorky Keith and his boyfriend and legion of dads (and one mom who found Romelle.) The Blades manage to Get Lotor (and he becomes redeemed as a member of the Blades down the line yes this is my emotional support fantasy LET ME HAVE THIS) and Keith and Kuron Square Off in much the same way. The castle doesn’t get sacrificed because I don’t really want it to (MY EMOTIONAL SUPPORT CASTLE LET ME HAVE THIS)
> 
> With Allura having the spirit of the white lion in her, she can no longer pilot Blue. They get Shiro’s soul out of Black and so the lion line-up returns to what it was at the start of the series, because it was kind of annoying for me that they touted the importance of the bond btwn u and ur lion at the start then went “OOP NVM WE JUST GONNA YEET DO THIS NOW IT DOESN’T MATTER ANYMORE.” The story continues with the Galra Empire under Haggar going for Earth, the paladins’ weak point, and with the power of teamwork or whatever everything ends up happy. ALLURA DOES NOT DIE AT THE END EITHER!!! Tbh I’m not even sure if I would;ve included a sacrifice but if anyone were to be it’d be the lions because now that the Galra Empire had been defeated they weren’t needed to defend the universe??? And the spirit of Voltron continued with everyone in the new era of peace??????? Or something poetic like that idk  
> Also peek my history major ass having to specify the bit about the agency of marginalised groups fdjkdfjkdf I didn’t spend all this time studying social history for nothing
> 
> So yeah, epilogue’s gonna be up right after this chapter--go check it out!
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please kudo, comment, rec, and/or [reblog on Tumblr!](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/188620257121/left-as-in-gone-chapter-1/)


	12. Epilogue - Nostos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nostos (Ancient Greek) - A hero’s peaceful homecoming.
> 
> A glimpse into Keith and Lance’s life together, four years after the events of Left (as in Gone).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This for fun so I hope u have some!
> 
> Also welcome to the chapter name that inspired the gimmick of hard-to-translate words, born again from my history major ass B) but I needed it if Achilles and Patroclus couldn’t have their nostos then by god Keith and Lance are gonna have theirs!!!!!!!!!!!!

Keith swore his boyfriend put the heaviest shit on the top shelf just to spite him.

And it wasn’t as though he was too short to reach the crystal dinner plate Lance had asked him to retrieve, albeit on the tops of his toes—for as much as Lance liked to brag about his height advantage of a whole fucking inch, functionally it made no difference in this type of situation. The bigger issue for him was that he could only manage to reach with one arm.

Four years had passed since his shoulder injury, and in those four years Lance had  _ constantly _ ridden his ass about getting the stiffness checked out by a doctor. But between an intergalactic war and the widespread chaos that ensued in the postbellum period, he hadn’t really found the time to make any appointments.

So the joint stuck, his fingers brushing the cabinet just a few inches too short, and Keith weighed the risk/reward of trying to knock it off and seeing if he couldn’t catch it before it shattered on the tile. Considering the plate had been a gift from Lance’s mother, who currently sat at the dining table with Lance a room away and well within earshot, the odds didn’t seem to be in his favour. Unfortunately, his choices seemed to be limited to either that or getting out the stool—a thought that he refused to entertain on principle. He’d rather get crushed to death under twenty pounds of crystal than ever admit defeat and pull out the stool.

“You’re going to break that,” Adam’s warning floated in from the open doorway behind him.  _ Great _ , Keith thought.  _ Just what I needed: a witness _ . “Step aside, and let me grab it.”

Keith huffed, dropping his arms and spinning on his heel to level Adam with an unimpressed pout. “You know, that joke  _ still _ isn’t funny.”

But judging by the shit-eating grin that Adam wore, he seemed to disagree. He sat back in his chair, sparing a glance at Shiro, coming up behind him. “Takashi.” He then jerked a nod towards Keith, then grabbed two handfuls of wheel, steering himself out of the way.

Shiro stepped ahead with a gentle smile directed at Keith, and an even gentler hand on his shoulder, nudging him aside before easily reaching for the plate. “How’re you doing, Keith?”

“I’m okay—thanks,” he added in afterthought as Shiro set the crystal down on the countertop.

Adam hummed. “And how are you  _ really _ ?”

Keith blew a heavy sigh, sinking back into the counter as he folded his arms. “A nervous wreck.”

Shiro frowned. “How come  _ he _ always gets the honest answer?”

“‘Cause I don’t have to worry about disappointing him.”

Adam grinned. “It’s true; he already knows I’m always disappointed in him.”

Shiro scoffed. “You two are such jerks.” His voice softened. “You’ve got nothing to be nervous about, Keith.”

He shrugged. “I’m… I really want this to go right. I don’t want any fuck-ups.”

“Listen, kid,” Adam said, “if it’s the right person, there’s no wrong way to do this.” He then turned a pointed look on Shiro. “ _ And _ if it’s the right time.”

Shiro returned it with a smirk. “We made it here, didn’t we?” Adam’s admission was nothing more than a roll of his eyes, but he didn’t refute it.

“Well,” Veronica stepped in through the doorway, a salad bowl balanced on her hip, “cat’s out of the bag—sorry, Keith.”

She didn’t even wait to set the bowl down before throwing an arm around him in a tight hug—the McClains were all so touchy, and it was hard for Keith to know if he’d ever get used to it. But despite that, he returned it with a hand rubbed into her back, noticing Axca walk in over her shoulder and giving her a wave that she sent back.

“What’s…” The appropriate question (A.K.A. whatever was more articulate than ‘huh?’) was slow to form on his lips. “What do you mean?”

She pulled away, setting the bowl down before moving to give Shiro and Adam like greetings. “Axca couldn’t stop staring at Lance’s hands.”

Keith blanched, as Axca turned to him, furrowing her brow. “He’s supposed to wear it on his left hand,” she reasoned, “isn’t that the custom?”

“I haven’t  _ given _ it to him yet,” Keith groaned.

“I thought we were here to celebrate your engagement.”

Adam replied for him, “Keith wants to do it in front of the family.”

Doubt crept up his throat—or maybe that was just leftover nausea from barely being able to eat all day. “Was that a mistake? Fuck, maybe I should wait—”

“No— _ Keith _ ,” Shiro interrupted. “This is good; you know Lance is going to love it.”

Veronica snorted. “Trust me, if there’s anything my brother loves, it’s being the total centre of attention. I guarantee you: me, Rachel, and the boys are  _ never _ going to hear the end of it from him.” The others shared a laugh, but Veronica’s lips twisted sourly.

“Well… that’s the idea. I mean, short of televising this shit, I figured this was the next best thing.” He took a deep breath, trying to take the assuagement to heart.

“Anyhow,” Veronica continued, holding out a beckoning hand, “I didn’t come here to coddle you—let’s see the ring!”

“Shit, right.” He pat down his pants, seized by a momentary panic until he felt the familiar bump of the tiny box in his back pocket. He slipped it out, cracking it open and holding it out to a responding chorus of ‘ _ ooh _ ’s, everyone stepping closer for a look.

Adam cleared his throat. “D’you mind?”

“Sorry Adam.” Keith gave a guilty wince, passing the box over to him and instantly placating his sour demeanour.

“Hey,” Veronica protested, “how come he gets to  _ hold _ it?”

“Crippled privilege, baby.”

“ _ Adam _ ,” Shiro chastised.

“ _ Shiro _ ,” Adam mimicked his tone to a tee, then passed the ring on to Axca. “that’s quite the rock, kid. Where the hell’d you scrape up the cash?”

Keith shifted uncomfortably, watching like a hawk as the box changed hands, now to Veronica. “I had a friend help me pick it out.”

Lucky for Keith, Kavo was a trader by profession—of course, when she and G’tego found out why Keith was looking for such a particular type of stone from their home planet, the two of them had been more than happy to drop everything to help. And it might’ve been one hell of a job to get all of it done in secrecy on a short visit with Lance in tow, but knowing that they’d found exactly what Keith was envisioning made it all worth it.

“Hey babe,” Veronica elbowed Axca in the side, holding the box up in demonstration, “you better be taking notes.” Axca stuttered a nondescript response, bowing her head to hide a blush.

Keith shifted on his feet, anxious to get the ring back now that it passed hands to Shiro—last up to inspect it. “Should we maybe start moving this to the dining room?” No one seemed to pay him any mind, every pair of eyes still on the ring. “You know, before anyone starts to wonder why we’re all here?”

Axca turned to Keith. “Lance told us to come in and help bring the food out.”

Keith ground his teeth, anxiety wearing at his patience. “So maybe we should go do that.”

“Good idea,” Veronica answered. “Why don’t you take the plastic off the salad for me?”

Keith rolled his eyes, but before he could turn to do just that, another shadow darkened the entrance to the kitchen—as if this needed to draw any  _ more _ suspicion. “Keith,” Krolia’s voice was the first thing to turn everyone’s attention off the ring, but her gaze had focused solely on Keith, and she stepped up towards him, arms outstretched.

Keith gave her a weak smile. “Hey Krolia.” He pushed off the counter, the two of them sharing a brief embrace. “Glad you could make it.”

She turned to Axca, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Good to see you too.” Axca gave her a genuine smile, and Keith tamped down a flicker of jealousy over having to share his mother’s affection. “What are we all doing here?”

Keith opened his mouth to respond, but Shiro beat him to it, holding out the box to her. “Keith’s showing us the ring.”

She took it delicately, her expression slowly melting into a fond smile as she examined it. “It’s beautiful, Keith.”

He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, his cheeks growing warm. “Uh, thanks.”

“What’s going on in here?”

Krolia’s smile was wiped off her face in an instant, her eyes going wide. She snapped the box shut and tossed it in his direction. Keith choked off a surprised noise in the back of his throat, fumbling with the box but ultimately catching it, then shoving it in his front pocket.

“Lance!” Veronica’s voice leapt up an octave, much as her little brother’s did when he was caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar. “We were just—”

“Save it.” Krolia sidestepped just in time for Keith to catch the dismissive hand Lance waved at his sister. “While I slaved away setting the table all alone out there, you people have been busy chatting it up instead of bringing out the food like I asked!”

Adam jerked a thumb in Keith’s direction. “We had to help Keith grab a plate from the top shelf.”

Keith shot him a dark glare, resisting the urge to spit the word ‘traitor.’ He looked back to Lance in time to catch his expression shift from self-righteous annoyance to smug satisfaction, now trained on him.

“We have a stool for a reason, Keith.”

“I’ll show you where you can shove that stool,” Keith warned.

He gave a faux-scandalised gasp, a hand flying to his chest. “Not with my  _ sister _ in the room.” Veronica gagged, thwacking him on the shoulder, and he dropped the theatrics. “Ugh, then go take out the food like I asked you! Keith’s helping me with dessert; everyone else, out!”

The rest of them, no longer able to coo over the ring, followed his instructions, carting plates off the counter and out towards the dining room, muttering clandestine quips under their breath as they went. Lance folded his arms across his chest, watching them all with a stern eye until every last one of them was gone. He then dropped the rigid pretense, sending Keith an amused smile.

“Since when are  _ you _ the life of the party?” He stepped up to Keith’s side, hands going for the crystal.

Keith shrugged, feigning both ignorance and nonchalance, hoping he didn’t miss the mark on either. “Did you let Kosmo out?”

Lance nodded, running a finger along the surface of the crystal. “Pass me the dishrag.” Keith did, and he accepted it without even looking, using it to wipe down the plate. “I think we’ve got about five more seconds before—”

There was an electric  _ zap! _ from behind them, Lance’s shoulders hiking up to his ears before the tension seeped out of him with a frustrated growl. Kosmo nudged himself between their hips, his paws landing on the counter before he quirked his head in Lance’s direction, tail thumping against the floor. Keith smiled, a hand going to scratch behind Kosmo’s ears out of habit (despite Lance’s prior admonishments echoing through his mind, “ _ Don’t reward him, Keith! No paws on the table—he knows the rules! _ ”)

Lance turned to directly address their dog, frowning. “Well don’t look at  _ me _ .” He gestured with a hand towards the door. “All the food’s out there.”

Kosmo sat back on his haunches, taking a moment and seeming almost to weigh Lance’s words. Then he was gone in another flash of energy, Keith’s hand falling through empty space. Lance shook his head, gaze now fixed on Keith.

“I hope he had the good sense to teleport on the floor this time; I don’t know if our table can hold him up anymore.” He jerked his head to the oven on Keith’s other side. “How are the tarts doing?”

Keith cracked open the oven door, giving them a cursory glance. “A few more minutes, I think—Hunk said golden brown, right?”

Lance turned to lean a hip into the counter, shrugging noncommittally. “And how about you?”

Keith froze—just for a moment, before he caught himself, easing the tension from his posture. “Fine…”

Lance breathed a short chuckle. “You’re forgetting that we have a psychic link, bud.”

_ Shit _ . Keith’s heart rate picked back up again—probably not helping his case, he reckoned. “Wish we could shut that stupid thing off.”

Lance laughed. “Trust me, I don’t like waking you up with my nightmares any more than you do.” He slid up closer, a hand landing on Keith’s lower back, rubbing in soothing circles.

“It’s… I don’t…” Keith shook his head, trying to mount an excuse— _ any _ excuse, so long as it wasn’t the truth.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

Keith’s mouth froze around another half-finished sentence. Then, he clamped it shut, and turned to Lance in silent question—Lance, literally the nosiest person Keith has ever encountered in the vast universe he’d traversed, was saying he didn’t have to know?

Lance rolled his eyes, shifting his weight to lean a hip into the counter. “Alright yeah, of course I  _ want _ to know, but I figure if you haven’t told me already, it means you have your reasons.” He shrugged. “You’ll tell me if you need to, whenever your ready—hell, it’s worked for us so far, right?”

Keith smiled, the weight of his nerves easing off his heart, if only a bit—he wasn’t sure if Adam was right about there being no wrong way to do this, but there was no doubt in Keith’s mind that Lance was the right person. He proved it every day, with every word and every action.

He reached out for Lance, a hand landing on his cheek. “Thanks,” he murmured. He felt Lance’s smile grow beneath his palm, his own hand coming up to bracket Keith’s as they both leaned in for a kiss.

It was soft. Sweet and slow. Lance’s hand slowed to a stop on his back, and Keith turned to face him better, to press their chests together in a way that had become marvelously habitual for them.

“Mm.” Lance pulled away with a short laugh. “Is that a knife in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

Keith’s gut clenched, suddenly very aware of the sharp point of the box against his thigh—between their legs. He tried to temper his startle as he pulled away, so close to having made it to dinner without botching the surprise. “Well—” and he was overwhelmed with the relief of hearing that first syllable ring evenly in his ears “—it’s definitely not the second one.”

From so close, Keith could see the twitch in Lance’s brow as a pout formed on his lips. “I thought I said no weapons at dinner—remember what happened with the treaty conference on Mars?”

In the back of his mind, Keith knew he should’ve registered the distraction as a win, but the forefront of it was more concerned with thinking:  _ Seriously, he’s  _ still _ on this?! _ “You mean when someone tried to assassinate you and I saved your life?”

“ _ No _ , I mean when someone brought a weapon to what was  _ supposed _ to be a peace treaty, and we were just lucky you had the patience to draw second that day.” Keith blew a scoff, pulling his hand away, and Lance took it as his cue to shift gears, following its trajectory with his own, holding onto his wrist. “But I can guarantee you my mom’s not packing—she wanted to see you, so why don’t you go in and say hi?”

Absentmindedly, Keith smoothed his hair back with his free hand, careful to not tug the shorter strands out of his braid. “You’ll finish up in here?”

With a squeeze on his wrist, Lance let go. “Yeah, don’t worry: I’ll catch up to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAH THAT’S RIGHT I SAID GAY RIGHTS AND I’LL SAY IT AGAIN
> 
> Also Adam’s disabled in this fic BECAUSE I SAID SO! Burying your gays? Bored. Tired. Lame. Making your gays disability representation? SUPER SEXY AND COOL AND AWESOME AND FUN!!!
> 
> I project my spinal injuries onto my characters--Lance has nerve damage that impacts his senses and Adam is paraplegic (bc DISABLED PPL RIGHTS BABY!!!!) Also I’ve made the decision from now on to make Adam in my future fics paraplegic and like ????? I love it. So glad I could include him in this fic and write this headcanon.
> 
> But also so I could do this
> 
>  **Adam:** Sorry *motions to his wheelchair* guess we can’t really hold hands while we take walks anymore  
>  **Shiro:** It’s alright, I mean… *waves his prosthetic arm in demonstration*
> 
> Also yes I shoehorned Kosmo in there--basically the story of how Kosmo came into the picture is that Krolia wanted to apologise to Keith for being absent for 18 years of his life but didn’t know how to make up for it. Pidge, half-jokingly, told her “yeah well when my brother was young he left an R/C truck in the driveway and it got run over. To make him stop crying my parents got him a dog, so you could try that?” and Krolia goes “PERFECT” runs out and grabs a wild space wolf “HEY SON LOOK I GOT YOU A DOG”
> 
> Everyone else on the team is shocked and terrified. Except Keith. Keith sees him and immediately goes “PUBBY,,,” and the rest is history
> 
> Also also OF COURSE Lance says yes. They get married and live happily ever after BECAUSE IT’S WHAT THEY DESERVE DAMMIT!!!!!!!!!
> 
> Again, thank you so much for being part of this story with me! I’m lowkey planning to write a kl smut fic in this universe, so if u wanna keep an eye out for that please subscribe to my pseud! Or subscribe to it if u wanna get a notif the next time I post a longfic! I also have a [tumblr](http://www.noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/) that you can check out if you want more information on my further plans for klance fics!
> 
> As always, if you enjoyed this fic, please kudo, comment, rec, and/or [reblog on Tumblr!](https://noussommeslessquelettes.tumblr.com/post/188620257121/left-as-in-gone-chapter-1/)


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